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Fear  aittd- 
Conventionality 


By 
Elsie  Clews  Parsons,  Ph.D. 

Author  of 
"The  Family,"  "The  Old-Fashioned  Woman,"  etc. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and   London 

Zbc  Iknlckctbockex  pxcee 

1914 


Copyright,  1914 

BY 

ELSIE   CLEWS   PARSONS 


Ube  Itnfcfterboclter  |>rc8a,  "ftcw  Bort 


ALL   WHO   say: 

\       "human  nature  is  the  same  the  world  over 


PREFACE 

J"  • 
QO  wont  are  we  by  way  of  disclaimer  to  call  a      d 

^     man  in  a  fit  of  temper  or  lust  a  beast  or  a      >-^ 

savage  that  likenesses  of  another  kind  between  us       j 

and  other  creatures,  essential  likenesses,  too,  we     "§ 

overlook.     Like  other  expressions  of  racial  pride,    'S 

this  particular  trick  of  castigation  dulls  our  obser-  .J 

vation,  and  even  leads  us  astray ;  for  is  it  not  in  our 

reputed  virtues  rather  than  in  our  crying  vices    ^  y 

that  we  most  resemble  our  so-called  inferiors,      o 

beast  or  savage,  in  our  orderly  habits  rather  than    (> 

in  our  lapses?    Are  not  we  all  of  us  extremely      "^ 

conservative  and   usually   far   more   staid   than 

passionate?    To  all  of  us,  to  the  animal,  to  the 

savage,  and  to  the  civilized  being  few  experiences  ;^1  ^-  ^ 

are  as  imcomfortable  or  painful,  as  disquieting  or  "     ^'^ 

fearful,  as  the  call  to  innovatel    Adaptations  we  all 

of  us  dislike  or  hate.    We  dodge  or  shirk  them  as        ^^' 

best  we  may.    And  we  have  protected  ourselves  .vV\^;^ 

against  having  to  make  them  as  well  as  we  could.   . 

Our  safeguards  are  variously  known  as  "instincts,"  -4^.^ 


VI  Preface 

"personal  habits,"   techniques,  economies,   cus- 
toms, conventionalities. 

In  all  of  these  activities — ^among  men  at  least — 

of  animals  we  know  too  little  to  speak — there  has 

been  of  course  from  time  to  time  some  conscious 

^^^■"  adaptation;  but  as  systems  of  conduct  they  are 

nJ^-if'    for  the  most  part,  I  think,  unconscious*  activities, 

^'^-\ ,  the  outcome  of  what  is  perhaps  vaguely  but  most 

^L        generally  called  instinct.-    Moreover  the  average 

TfT*/     man  shifts  the  effort  of  making  the  more  or  less 

inevitable  adaptation  upon  the  expert,  taking  to 

himself  the  r61e  of  imitation,  a  r61e  of  instinct. 

/^  ^.i.'i  Into  an  analysis  of  instinct  I  may  not  go.    In  this 

'/'^y  study  I  have  to  indicate  some  of  the  ways  in  which 

*../•'    dread  of  novelty,  of  the  unlike  or  the  unusual,  has 

entered  into  social  hfe;  how  much  our  fear  of 

having  to  change  our  habits  has  affected  them. 

.  ^j'  I  To  the  intolerance  or  conflict  bom  of  this  fear  or 

^^  ^    dread  I  shall  but  incidentally  refer. 

j?"^.,.)       Thi^jiread  or  apprehensiveness  is  both  intensi- 

V'c^*^    fied  and  rendered  conspicuous  thanks  to  another 

7^^  instinctive  feeling,  our  instinct  of  gregariousness. 

i*»Y-~    Our  longing  for  the  habitual  is  continually  im- 

i.Ut>A'  "  perilled  by  our  longing  for  one  another.    For  what 

.    ,  is  as  likely  to  interfere  with  our  habits  as  the 

^^i^i^^i      *  Cp.  Boas,  Franz,     The  Mind  of  Primitive  Man^  pp.  221,  228, 

,r /,/.^/, -New  York,  1911. 


Preface 


vu 


habits  of  others?  Moreover  it  is  personality 
which  most  influences  personality,  a  fact  curiously 
more  apparent  in  savage  philosophy  than  in  ours.* 
But  the  evasiveness  induced  throughout  society 
by  this  feature  of  personality  even  the  modem 
philosopher  has  noted.  "Does  it  not  seem  as  if 
man  was  of  a  very  sly,  elusive  nature,  and  dreaded 
nothing  so  much  as  a  full  rencontre  front  to 
front  with  his  fellow?'*  queries  the  great  transcen- 
dentalist. ' 

That  we  may  gratify  both  our  desire  for_com-  .  ^ 
panionship  and  our  desire  to  be  let  alone  or  rather 
to  go  our  own  gait  it  is  of  paramount  importance   ^^^^ 
that  the  personality  and  habits  of  others  should  be    ^Jniy 
like  ours.     Inevitably  different,  truly  or  supposi- 
titiously,  because  of  differences  of  age  or  sex  or 
environment,  the  best  we  can  do,  we  feel,t  is  to  set 
up  barriers  between  us/ 

If  these  social  barriers  are  to  remain  effectual,  it 
is  necessary  that  the  habits  they  safeguard  remain 
steadfast.     For  the  sake  of  uniformity  the  re- 

*  Fear  of  personal  contacts  is  undisguised  in  the  savage.  He 
is  afraid  of  them  because  they  suggest  the  unknown  of  which  he  is  j 

ever  afraid,  because  they  offer  opportunities  to  work  magic 
against  him,  because  through  them  he  may  "catch"  the  un- 
desirable qualities  of  others. 

t  Is  it  necessary  for  me  to  state  that  throughout  this  analysis 
collective  feeling  or  action  is  never  assumed  to  be  purposeful  or 
dehberative?    ^/  .     -      Q  G    /^ .     .  '        « 


viii  Preface 

striction  of  personality  within  the  bounds  of  these 
habits  is  also  urgent.  Hence  our  insistence  that 
the  individual  act  invariably  in  conformity  with 
his  or  her  sex,  age,  class,  caste,  or  nationality,  with 
his  or  her  set  part  in  society.  Hence  our  intoler- 
ance of  effeminacy  or  mannishness,  of  precocious- 
ness  or  immaturity,  of  the  unladylike  or  the 
boorish,  of  inhospitality,  of  a  lack  of  esprit  de 
corps'^OT  patriotism.  Hence  our  suspicion  of  a 
vagabond  and  in  part  our  contempt  for  a  derelict ; 
hence  the  bitterness  of  our  persecution  of  rebels  or 
minorities,  so  much  more  dangerous  to  our  peace  of 
mind  than  the  outlander,  however  hostile,  or  than 
nature,  however  catastrophic.  "Certain  forms 
which  all  people  comply  with,  and  certain  arts 
which  all  people  aim  at,  hide  in  some  degree  the 
truth*  and  give  a  general  exterior  resemblance  to 
almost  everybody."^  Lord  Chesterfield  is  prob- 
ably referring  to  the  usages  peculiar  to  the  "polite 
society"  of  his  day,t  but  is  it  not  along  the  same 
lines  of  conformity  or  in  view  of  them  that  many 
of  our  wider  social  forms  are  drawn,  such  so-called 
institutions  as  the  "laws"  of  hospitality,  caste, 
marriage,  the  club,  the  family? 

*  Or  personality,  let  us  say. 

t  That  it  was  closer  in  essentials  to  savage  society  than  is  our 
own  contemporaneous  society  our  study,  I  trust,  will  suggest. 


Preface 


IX 


The  principle  of  these  institutions  is  one  of 
grouping  or  classification.  They  bring  together 
the  like  and  separate  the  unHke.  Or  when  for 
utilitarian  or  other  reasons  separation  is  imprac- 
ticable, by  consistently  treating  the  unlike  as  re- 
presentatives of  a  class  and  nothing  else,  by  giving 
them  a  status,  the  status  of  sex,  of  guest  or  host,  of 
superior  or  inferior  rank,  of  wife  or  husband,  of 
member  of  a  group,  a  family  group,  an  age  group, 
an  occupation  group,  a  local  group,  etc.,  in  other 
words  by  strictly  classifying  them,  they  hold  them 
aloof  or  raise  up  barriers  against  them.  Applied 
to  the  more  homogeneous,  this  classificatory 
method  has  also  the  advantage  of  precluding  any 
encroachment  of  personality.  It  is  only  as  one 
of  the  group  that  you  meet  its  other  members, 
concealing  from  them  whatever  in  you  is  not 
characteristic  of  the  group,*  whatever  is  erratic, 
changeable,  changing,  not  open  to  classification, 
in  short  whatever  is  personal. 

And  so  classificatory  institutions  plan  for  rela- 
tionships which  will  satisfy  naturally  incompatible 
tendencies,  our  gregariousness,  and  our  bent  to 
routine.    They  do  their  best  too  to  preclude  inter- 

*  It  must  be  because  of  this  concealment  that  the  curious  charge 
of  insincerity  is  so  often  made  against  conventionality.  It  is 
indeed  an  extraordinary  charge  to  bring  against  what  is  intrinsi- 
cally so  primitive,  deep-rooted,  and  unassumed. 


X  Preface 

ferences  with  either  tendency.  With  the  nature 
itself  of  the  interference  they  preclude,  they  are 
primarily  not  concerned,  if  concerned  at  all. 
That  is  outside  their  task.  Whatever  is  indi- 
vidualistic or  whatever  is  likely  to  blur  or  break 
down  habit  or  custom  the  institutionaHzed  accoimt 
a  social  violation — a  crime,  an  immorality,  an 
indignity,  an  act  of  selfishness  or  rudeness,  a  lack 
of  consideration  or  respect,  bad  manners.  It  is  a 
crime  to  marry  your  cousin  if  your  group  is  ex- 
ogamous ;  endogamous,  it  is  immoral  not  to  marry 
her.  Not  to  be  a  polygynist  in  a  polygynous 
society  may  be  a  piece  of  selfishness  to  your  wife; 
but  to  be  one  under  monogamy  is  treating  her, 
she  thinks,  with  indignity.  In  very  many  places 
not  to  turn  your  back  on  your  mother-in-law  is  the 
height  of  disrespect;  in  other  places  paying  no 
attention  to  her  is  a  lack  of  consideration.  To  pay 
attention  to  any  woman,  even  to  look  at  a  lady,  is 
conduct  imbecoming  a  gentleman  wherever  the 
sexes  keep  much  apart.  Generally  to  treat  a 
woman  as  if  she  were  a  man,  a  "social  superior" 
as  if  an  equal,  a  senior  as  if  a  contemporary,  a 
guest  as  if  a  member  of  the  family,  are  all  seri- 
ous enough  confusions  of  social  distinctions  to  be 
called  at  least  bad  manners. 

Calling  tmusual  behaviour  immannerly  is,  we 


Preface 


XI 


all  know,  a  peculiarly  effective  way  of  snubbing  the 
social  rebel.  No  one  wants  to  be  considered  a 
boor.y^But  it  is  by  calling  names,  by  opprobrium, 
at  any  rate,  that  we  often  try  to  preclude  an  attack  /\* 
upon  our  institutions  or  to  justify  our  dread  of 
such  an  outrage.])  It  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  we 
are  ever  rationalizing  our  customs,  rationalizing 
them,  it  would  appear,  in  order  to  preserve  them. 
But  when  in  spite  of  preservatives  they  show 
signs,  as  many  of  them  do  to-day,  of  disintegrating, 
does  it  not  behoove  us  to  view  them  historically, 
to  appreciate  their  origins  and  their  underlying 
meanings?  Whether  conservative  or  iconoclastic, 
should  we  not  know  at  least  what  we  are  about? 

To  this  end  study  of  existing  institutions  or 
customs  should  not  be  carried  on,  it  seems  to  me, 
exclusively  on  the  current  scientific  theory  that 
they  are  merely  rationalized  relics  of  the  past,  but 
far  more  on  the  popular  theory  that  human  nature 
has  changed  little  if  at  all  and  that  characteristic 
feelings  and  ideas  are  for  ever  finding  re-expression. 
The  survival  theory  has  had  great  vogue  of  late  in 
cultivated  circles,  but  it  is  apt  like  any  new  key  to 
be  tried  on  locks  it  does  not  quite  fit. 

To  the  sophisticated  individualist  the  survival 
theory  is  ever  a  comfort,  an  entirely  satisfactory 
pass-key.     It  enables  him  to  conform  or  to  appear 


xii  Preface 

to  conform  to  the  conventionalities  he  fails  to  ad- 
mire without  losing  his  self-respect.  Because  he 
sees  through  them,  he  feels  unbound  by  them. 
Realities  in  the  past  to  all  perhaps,  realities  in  the 
present  to  the  undisceming,  to  him  they  are  a  mere 
convenience,  often,  he  says,  a  protection.  They 
smooth  his  path.  **Mere  forms,"  are  you  not 
exaggerating  their  import,  denying  your  sense  of 
humour  perhaps,  or  your  class,  in  taking  them  so 
seriously?  he  is  more  than  likely  to  prick  into  you. 
**  Isn't  ease  under  their  conventionalities  charac- 
teristic  of  truly  cultivated  persons?  As  for  the 
others  aren't  they  well  enough  off,  knowing  no 
better?"  Shall  we  meet  his  query  with  a  figure 
suggested  by  his  own?  To  motorists  trolley  cars 
are  of  course  a  protection.  The  people  who  use 
them  leave  the  roads  comparatively  imimpeded. 
Any  special  joy  or  sense  of  adventure  in  travelling 
by  trolley,  to  be  sure,  is  rare,  and  the  chances  for 
enjoyment  and  for  seeing  the  world  are  better  on 
the  whole  in  a  motor  car.  And  yet  were  the 
question  to  arise  of  making  the  pleasanter  or  more 
adventuresome  mode  of  locomotion  available  to 
all,  it  is  quite  possible  that  considerable  opposition 
would  appear,  opposition  not  only  from  the  trolley 
companies  and  the  aristocrats  of  travel  but  from 
the  habitues  of  the  trolley  line  themselves.   Trolley- 


Preface  xiii 

ing  is  so  much  safer  than  motoring.  These  ques- 
tions of  communication  or  transportation  are  after 
all,  whether  physical  or  social,  questions  of  demo- 
cracy, howbeit  of  a  kind  of  democracy  with 
which  the  merely  political  democrat  has  no  great 
familiarity. 

In  the  following  discussions  more  will  be  said 
about   safety    devices    than    about    the   dangers 
apprehended,  about  conventionalities  than  about 
fear.    Nor  will  I  care  to  press  in  detail  the  theory 
that  conventionality  of  a  certain  type  is  ever 
prompted  by  fear.f  Conventionality  rests  upon  an  "Sy- 
apprehensive  state   of   mind,*  jDut  it  would  be 
grotesque  to  try  to  trace  particular  conventional- 
ities to  particular  fears  and  it  would  lead  one  into 
endless  absurdities.    I  do  not  take  a  man's  arm  to 
go  out  to  dinner,  for  example,  because  I  am  afraid 
of  tripping  over  the  threshold  or  falling  down 
stairs,  or  even,  in  acknowledgment  of  weakness,  as 
a  gesture  of  propitiation.     But  by  taking  his  arm  '^  f^ch 
I  do  raise  up  an  imperceptible  kind  of  barrier  be- 
tween us,  a  barrier  covertly  soothing  to  the  sense  ^, 
of  disquiet,  extremely  slight  in  this  circumstance  ^/'''2' 
of  course,   the  difference  in  sex  arouses.    As  a  .•'*«4^w*^ 
gesture  of  sex,  taking  a  man's  arm'-^is  a  kind  of  ^"^^  ^ 

*  That  is  in  society.     Conventional  ways  in  an  individual  do   >6^  4^ 
not  necessarily  betoken,  need  I  say,  an  apprehensive  nature.        s^J  ^^ 


^^V  IS    »v^  \-'\  »  ',4         Preface 

inoculation   against   sex.     It   divorces   sex   from 

personality,  and  to  render  sex  impersonal  is,  at 

'^'  times  at  least,  to  render  it  unalarmingf- 

'  T^t  \  ^  '     Into  all  the  conventionalities  of  sex  I  shall  not  go, 

■^^      choosing  for  discussion  certain  of  the  more  marked 


M**<-  conventionalities  between  the  sexes  due  to  sex 
apprehensiveness.  And  in  general  the  conven- 
tionalities dwelt  upon  will  be  those  based  upon 
fear,  the  fear  of  unlike  for  unlike.     Nor  shall  I 


YK'tftv 


I 


^^rf/.  ^  consider  all  the  customs  arising  out  of  such  fears, 
limiting  myself  to  customs  which  modern  society* 
has  begun  to  question  and  which  in  one  stage  of 
that  questioning  it  is  pleased  to  call,  sometimes 
in  justification,  sometimes  in  condemnation,  con- 
ventionalities. 

^^Customs  once  generally  questioned  are  apt  to 
^  change  or  decay,  in  other  words,  conventionalities 
are  naturally  short-lived  .\  We  might  almost  de- 
fine them  as  customs  in  decomposition,  more  or 
less  conscious  of  their  own  decay.  In  fact,  many 
of  the  conventionalities  we  are  to  consider  are 
fast  disappearing.  For  some  of  my  readers  there- 
fore  a    certain   amount   of   detailed   description 

*  In  this  definition  savage  society  is  too  much  identified  with  its 
customs  to  be  conventional.  Conventionalities  are  to  the  life  of 
custom  what  myths  are,  it  has  been  argued,  to  the  religious  life. 
Both  myths  and  conventionalities  indicate  a  breaking  down  in 
the  sense  of  participation.  Cp.  L6vy-Bruhl,  L.,  Les  Fonctions 
MenkUes  dans  les  Societes  InferieureSf  pp.  434  sq.     Paris,  1910. 


Preface 


XV 


seemed  necessary.     For  their  sake  I  hope  to  beu£  '^. 
forgiven  if  to  the  more  conventionally  minded  ll  "^"^^f 
seem  at  times  too  expository  or  too  explicitr  '^^  .^w  ■ 

"  Why  in  view  of  their  imminent  disappearance  oi^Zui 
bestow  so  much  attention  upon  them?"  I  may  be  '^SxWc 
asked.  "Why  not  take  their  decease  for  granted 
and  pass  on?"  It  is  a  query  implying  too  great  a 
doubt  of  the  value  of  ethnology  in  general,  or  let 
us  say  of  science,  to  be  met  here.  But  to  the 
reader  of  ethnological  bias  may  I  say  that  I  trust 
this  study  will  be  a  contribution,  however  humble, 
to  his  understanding  of  society. 
CTFear  of  change  is  a  part  of  the  state  of  fear  man 
has  ever  Uved  in  but  out  of  which  he  has  begun  to 
escape.  Civilization  might  be  defined  indeed  as 
"the  steps  in  his  escapeT\  What  he  now  calls  con- 
ventionality  is  that  "part  of  his  system  of  pro- 
tection against  change  he  has  begun  to  examine 
and,  his  fear  lessening,  even  to  forego.  If  the  fol- 
lowing discussions  are  found  to  substantiate  this 
sociological  theory  they  will  serve  their  purpose — 
or  a  part  of  it. 

E,  C.  P^. 

New  York, 
November,  1914. 


^ 


CONTENTS 

Preface  .... 

vicJUfcl-H"ON  NOT  Taking  to  Strangers 

"^  L 

II. — Travelers        .... 

III. — Hospitality:  The  Guest 

IV. — Hospitality:  The  Host  . 

V. — Introductions     and      Disinfectant 
Rites  .... 

VI.— Caste 

VII. — A  Postscript  on  Chivalry 

VIII. — Acquaintances 

IX. — Presents  .... 

X. — Calling 

XI. — Entertaining  .... 

XII. — Between  the  Sexes 

XIII. — Marriage        .... 

xvii 


PAGB 

V 

I 

8 

19 

34 

44 
55 
72 
78 
91 
97 
107 

119 
136 


xviii  Contents 


PAGE 

XIV. — In  the  Family 

155 

XV. — Age-Classes    .... 

176 

XVI. — Concerning  Ghosts  and  Gods 

197 

K:VII. — An  Unconventional  Society  . 

205 

References     .... 

.         219 

Index       

235 

Fear  and  Conventionality 


Fear  and  Conventionality 


ON  NOT  TAKING  TO  STRANGERS 

/^UR  ways  are  always  more  or  less  endangered, 
^^  we  think,  by  the  Stranger,  for  his  habits 
or  customs  differ,  we  suspect,  from  ours;  probably 
he  has,  as  it  is  said  in  a  restricted  sense  in  civiliza- 
tion, different  standards  of  living.  Against  him 
we  are  therefore  apt  to  safeguard  ourselves.  When 
we  can,  we  avoid  him.  We  stay  away  or  we  run 
away  from  him  or  we  keep  him  away  from  us. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  there,"  demurs  a  son  or  a 
daughter.  "I  don't  know  any  of  those  fellows," 
— ^'I  don't  know  the  other  girls;  I  won't  have  a 
good  time."  '*A  Fijian  cannot  be  comfortable," 
we  are  told,  "with  a  stranger  at  his  heels"*;  and 
will  not  an  acquaintance  sometimes  tell  us  that 

♦Williams,  Th.,  Fiji  and  the  Fijians,  i,  133.  London,  1858. 
Because  he  lives  ever  in  fear  of  his  life,  writes  Williams;  but  his 
fear  of  the  stranger  may  be,  I  surmise,  more  general. 

I 


2    /.  : :  ^  :5'^fkt:' )Atid  C^nfventionality 

he  or  she  takes  not  easily  to  strangers  or  does 
not  like  to  meet  them?  Have  we  not  all  known 
persons  too  shy  their  life  long  to  go  with  pleasure 
"into  society '7  To  feel  at  ease  in  any  society 
is  a  mark  of  the  caste  of  whom  gallantry  is  de- 
manded. But  even  a  gentleman,  if  he  actually 
knows  something  against  a  stranger,  perhaps 
that  he  is  an  abolitionist  or  an  ex-convict,  an 
I.  W.  W.  or  a  militant  suffragist,  may  "refuse  to 
meet"  him.  He  would  not  be  seen  with  him  or 
shake  his  hand  or  sit  down  to  table  with  him. 
He  gives  him  a  wide  berth.  When  he  passes,  a 
gentleman  or  at  any  rate  a  lady  will  look  the 
other  way. 

"Our  immediate  impulse  may  be  to  look  the 
other  way  when  any  person  at  whom  we  have 
been  looking  becomes  aware  of  us,"  remarks  Wil- 
liam James'  of  a  common  experience.  Staring, 
we  say,  is  impolite.  And,  unless  we  are  actresses 
or  social  leaders,  for  no  reason  we  can  express^ we 
resent  being  stared  at.  Even  the  tourist  minds 
it.  Looking  at  a  person's  face,  says  a  Chinaman* 
shows  pride.  Not  even  the  Son  of  Heaven  loc%s 
at  a  person  "above  his  collar."  "The  ruler  of 
a  state  looks  at  him  a  little  lower,  a  great  officer, 
on  a  line  with  his  heart,"  and  five  paces  away  an 
ordinary  officer  does  not  look  at  him  at  all.  * 


On  Not  XaKin^  to  Strangers  3 

On  the  other  hand,  to  look  a  stranger  in  the 
eye  is  sometimes  taken  to  be  a  test  of  character 
or  of  gentle  breeding — when  it  is  not  black 
magic*  John  Trott,  the  typical  English  boor, 
is  described  by  Lord  Chesterfield  as  never  look- 
ing people  in  the  face,  and  many  a  child  besides 
Lord  Chesterfield's  little  godson  ^  has  to  be  taught 
to  look  at  the  person  he  shakes  hands  with  or 
addresses. 

"Who  spekithe  to  the  in  any  maner  place, 
Rudely,  cast  not  thyn  ye  adowne. 
But  with  a  sadde  chiere  loke  hym  in  the  face."* 

Nor  is  it  only  English  children  who  cast  down  their 
eyes  or  look  askance  at  the  stranger.  The  Aki- 
kuyus,  a  vigorous  tribe  immigrant  in  British  East 
Africa,  call  the  tribe  of  timid  dwarfs  they  dis- 
possessed Mai  tho  ma  chi-d-na,  "the  people  that 
look  at  you  as  a  child  would."  ^  On  Dr.  Felkin's 
first  appearance  in  the  Court  of  Uganda,  so  fright- 
ened were  the  royal  children  by  his  white  face  that 
they  rushed  away. 

Even  less  than  a  black  face  causes  our  children 
sometimes  to  rush  away  and  hide  from  the  new- 

*  Simple  people,  as  we  know,  often  carry  charms  against  the 
evil  eye.  Natives  of  Borneo  have  been  known  to  fear  that 
Europeans  by  looking  at  them  would  make  them  ill.  (Crawley, 
E.,  The  Mystic  Rose,  p.  114.     London  and  New  York,  1902.) 


4  Fear  and  Conventionality 

comer.  When  Byron  was  a  boy  he  used  to  jump 
out  of  the  drawing-room  window  to  escape  callers.  ^ 
We  know  grown-ups  "whose  first  impulse  when 
the  doorbell  rings,  or  a  visitor  is  suddenly  an- 
nounced, is  to  scuttle  out  of  the  room  so  as  not  to 
be  *caught.*"7  So  fearful  of  strangers  are  some 
of  the  timid  jungle  tribes  of  India  that  the  mere 
sight  of  one  puts  to  flight  a  whole  community.* 
When  the  Regent  of  Java  paid  a  visit  with  Dutch 
officials  to  the  capital  of  the  Baduwis  in  the 
almost  inaccessible  mountains  of  the  island,  all 
the  people  fled  the  place  never  to  return. '  While 
digging  up  a  prehistoric  community  house  in  New 
Mexico,  I  one  day  asked  the  Pueblo  Indian  at 
work  with  me  why  his  ancestors  had  moved 
away  from  the  place.  "Because  they  knew  the 
White  Men  were  coming,**  he  naively  answered, 
betraying  his  own  point  of  view  in  being  so 
well  satisfied  that  his  answer  was  adequate. 
The  very  primitive  Vedda  of  Ceylon  once*  traded 
with  the  Sinhalese  on  a  strictly  credit  basis. 
Putting  down  his  share  in  the  deal  somewhere  on 
the  edge  of  his  tribal  land,  the  Vedda  trader 
would  return  in  a  few  days  to  get  the  axes  and 

*  The  "silent  trade"  is  no  longer  practised,  although  the  Veddas 
still  avoid  strangers  for  everything  but  barter.  (Seligmann, 
C.  G.  and  B.  J.,  The  Veddas,  pp.  93-4.      Cambridge,  191 1.) 


On  Not  TaKing  to  Strangers  5 

arrow-points  the  unknown  Sinhalese  had  left  in 
payment. '° 

The  Veddas  elude  not  only  their  fellow  island- 
ers; they  run  away  from  their  own  ghosts,  desert- 
ing their  cave  homes  whenever  anyone  in  them 
dies."  Australian  Blackfellows  show  their  fear 
of  the  dead  in  the  same  way,  and  so  does  many 
another  savage  horde.  Obviously,  through  their 
new  experiences,  the  dead  have  become  alien  .^' 
to  the  living  and  formidable.  Is  it  not  mostly 
for  this  reason  that  anyone,  anywhere,  is  afraid 
of  ghosts,  and  does  his  best  to  avoid  meeting 
them? 

Reassuring  as  running  away  from  ghosts  or 
"total  foreigners"  or  unexpected  callers  may  be,  ^ 

flight  in  itself  breaks  down  habits  and^requires  "n  k 
new  adaptations- — unless  people  are  at  any  rate 
nomadic  or  semi-nomadic.  And  even  nomads 
may  return  to  once  deserted  spots — after  the 
danger  is  past,  when  the  Stranger,  living  or  dead, 
is  supposed  to  have  departed.* 

With  a  more  settled  way  of  living  it  is  naturally 
more  convenient  to  keep  the  Stranger  at  a  dis- 
tance than  to  run  away  from  him.     On  the  theory 

♦But  he  is  apt  to  remain.  The  fact  that  primitive  nomads 
(hunters  and  fishers  in  distinction  to  stockraisers)  live  in  inacces- 
sible places,  in  mountains  or  on  islands,  is  evidence  that  he  comes 
to  stay. 


6  Fear  and  Conventionality 

that  the  intrusion  of  a  White  Man  would  cause 
the  death  of  their  king,  the  Malagasy  of  Mahafly 
closed  the  whole  of  their  country  to  Europeans. '  * 
When  Speke  was  travelling  in  Central  Africa, 
the  natives  of  one  of  the  villages  he  wished  to  stop 
at  shut  their  doors  against  him,  never  before  having 
seen  a  White  Man  or  such  tin  boxes  as  he  carried. '  ^ 
Recently  on  a  stormy  walk  in  Long  Island  a 
"foreign  bom  American'*  shut  her  door  in  my 
face  when  I  asked  for  shelter,  a  not  uncommon 
experience  for  the  "Dago"  tramp  at  the  mercy 
:i  -L^fu  of  the  New  England  housewife.  In  1840  China 
oJ*  ^*^  excluded  the  British  —  forever.  To-day  the 
'^'^''^  United  States  excludes  the  Chinese;  Russia  ex- 
eludes  Hebrews;  Hayti,  Syrians;  Canada,  Hindus. 
And  almost  every  society  exorcises  its  ghosts — 
after  allowing  them  a  reasonable  time  to  depart 
in,  perhaps  a  few  days,  perhaps  months  or  years.* 
Sometimes  ghosts  are  allowed  to  stay  on  inde- 
finitely if  they  keep  to  the  quarters  assigned  them, 
but  if  they  walk  unscrupulously  they  are  sure  to 
be  laid.  The  live  Stranger  may  be  similarly 
treated.     To    Calais    early    in    the  seventeenth 

*The  living  are  not  always  treated  with  equal  consideration. 
A  year  or  two  ago  in  enforcing  its  exclusion  act  retroactively, 
Hayti  refused  to  allow  a  Syrian  resident  who  had  been  away 
on  business  to  land  merely  to  close  his  house  and  wind  up  his 
affairs. 


On  Not  TaKing  to  Strangers  7 

century  outsiders  were  admitted,  but  any 
stranger  *'of  what  Nation  so-ever"  who  was 
"taken  walking  by  himself  about  the  greene  of 
the  towne'*  was  imprisoned  until  he  paid  a  fine.'< 
In  the  medieval  city  of  Europe  the  Jew  was  segre- 
gated in  a  pale;  in  Russia  the  ghetto  is  still  extant 
and  the  right  of  domicile  is  withheld  from  Jews 
in  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  coimtry.  Until 
1858  they  were  kept  from  qualifying  for  the  House 
of  Commons;  in  the  United  States  clubs  or  hotels 
may  be  closed  to  them  or  under  the  management 
of  a  fashionable  opera-house  they  may  be  kept  off 
the  list  of  box-holders.  Europeans  and  Americans 
in  the  Chinese  Treaty  Ports  have  had  to  live  in  the 
Foreign  Concessions.  In  Uganda  no  European 
was  allowed  to  live  anywhere  in  the  country  out- 
side of  the  capital.  ^^  In  parts  of  the  United 
States  negroes  are  still  kept  out  of  schools,  tene- 
ments, cars,  voting  booths,  playhouses,  and  beach 
pavilions. 


n 

TRAVELLERS 

TO  go  out  among  strangers,  to  be  a  man  of  the 
world,  to  travel,  has  always  taken  more  or 
less  courage  and  considerable  inducements — wives, 
treasure,  slaves,  foreign-made  goods,  foreign  alli- 
ances, the  favours  of  the  gods,  lands  to  be  claimed 
or  seas  charted,  a  Golden  Fleece,  a  Sacred  Tomb, 
a  North-west  Passage.  Of  couijse  if,  like  raider  or 
sailor  or  crusader,  or  like  the  modem  tourist,  you 
seek  out  only  compatriots  when  you  travel,*  you 
feel  comparatively  secure,  a  feeling  they  whose 
business  it  is  to  exploit  the  tourist  fully  appreciate; 
but  a  solitary  stranger  in  a  strange  landf  has 

*"Most  of  the  English  who  travel  converse  only  with  each 
other,"  writes  Lord  Chesterfield.  (Letter  VIII.)  Travelling 
North  Americans  also  flock  together,  except  when  one  suspects 
the  other  of  being  "common."  But  even  this  suspicion  is  not 
entertained  by  the  hypergregarious  Cook's  tourist. 

t  Particularly  a  woman.  In  primitive  groups  women  rarely 
if  ever  travel  alone.  Even  in  the  United  States  there  is  a  pre- 
judice against  employing  women  as  commercial  travellers,  and 
not  long  ago  in  New  York  City  certain  hotels  declined  to  take 
in  women  travelling  alone.     On  the  other  hand,  savage  women 

8 


Travellers  9 

ever  had  to  have  an  adventurous  spirit.  Realiza- 
tion of  the  perils  he  faces  is  apt  to  find  ceremonial 
expression.  In  his  behalf  sacrifices  are  offered 
to  the  gods  or  prayers  said  or  he  is  himself  the 
recipient  of  farewell  gifts.  He  is  provided  with 
amulets  or  letters  of  introduction  or  wished  a 
''bon  voyage''  or  "good  luck."  As  he  sets  off  he 
is  on  the  lookout  for  omens,  and  often  an  unfavour- 
able omen  checks  his  start.  There  are  days  too, 
he  learns,  when  he  had  better  not  start  at  all — 
Sunday,  Tuesday,  and  Friday  in  the  Soudan,' 
Friday  among  us,  and  Friday,  too,  in  Persia, 
if  western  bound.*  In  Persia  a  kinsman  holds  a 
Koran  over  a  traveller's  head  as  he  crosses  the 
threshold.^  Elsewhere  too  he  is  "seen  off."  In 
Northern  Albania  he  is  accompanied  for  a  mile 
or  two  on  his  journey  by  his  relatives,  returning 
to   them,   on  leave-taking,   the  gold   and   silver 


are  sometimes  sent  on  dangerous  ambassadorial  missions  on  the 
ground  that  they  nm  less  risk  of  attack  than  men.  It  is  fear  of 
the  unusual,  a  fear  greater  in  women  I  surmise  than  in  men, 
that  has  deterred  women  from  travel  rather  than  any  definite 
fear  of  attack. 

**'0n  Saturday  and  Monday,  0  my  brother,  it  is  best  not 
to  proceed  towards  the  East.  From  the  West,  danger  impends 
on  Sunday  and  Friday.  On  Tuesday  and  Wednesday  beware 
lest  thy  destiny  leads  thee  towards  the  North.  And  when 
Thursday's  sun  hath  risen,  never  direct  thy  course  to  the  South." 
(Binning,  R.  B.  M.,  A  Journal  of  Ywo  Years'  Travel  in  Persia^ 
Ceylon,  etc.,  ii,  246.     London,  1857.) 


lO  Fear  and  Conventionality 

earrings  he  has  had  to  take  from  a  jar  of  magic 
water.  ^  On  setting  out  to  the  East  Coast  the 
Wanyamwesi  of  the  Soudan  smear  their  cheeks 
with  a  kind  of  meal  porridge^  or  else  have  their 
medicine-men  spit  it  over  them,  ^  just  as  before 
going  to  Europe  we  might  have  our  hair  cut  or 
buy  a  "travelling  suit.**  No  Moslem  ever  travels 
without  taking  with  him  his  grave  clothes.* 
"Does  not  travel  itself e  put  in  minde  of  the 
slippemes,  imcertainty  and  shortnesse  of  this 
life?'*  queries  a  Christian  exponent  of  wayfaring 
advantages.  ^ 

While  the  traveller  is  away,  prayers  are  said 
for  his  "safe  return'*  or  charms  performed.  The 
family  of  an  Aeneze  Arab  may  vow  to  place  ostrich 
feathers,  on  his  return,  on  one  of  the  poles  of  the 
tent.''  "Guard  him,"  prays  the  Christian,  "from 
the  dangers  of  the  sea,  from  sickness,  from  the  vio- 
lence of  enemies,  and  from  every  evil  to  which  he 
may  be  exposed.**  The  Catholic  friends  of  the 
aeroplanist  make  their  supplications  for  his  safety 
to  Saint  Anthony,  richest  of  saints  in  the  ex-voti 
of  grateful  travellers.  To  the  Goddess  of  Fire 
and  the  Sacred  Skulls  the  old  men  of  the  Ainu 


*  Wilson  and  Felkin,  ii,  308.  No  doubt  an  exaggeration. 
Cp.  Burckhardt,  J.  L.,  Notes  on  the  Bedouins  and  Wahdbys^  p.  160. 
London,  1830. 


Travellers  II 

make  libations  of  sake  and  renew  their  offerings 
of  willow  shavings.  "Oh,  ye  Gods,"  they  pray, 
"our  sons  have  gone  away  ...  we  think  of 
them  much,  oh  do  ye  watch  over  them  and  prosper 
them  .  .  .  and  bring  them  safely  home." ^ 

Back  "safe  and  sound,"  the  traveller  is  "met." 
When  a  Blackfellow  of  some  importance  approaches 
a  camp,  "the  inmates  close  in  with  raised  arms, 
as  if  in  defence;  then  the  person  of  note  rushes 
at  them,  making  a  faint  blow  as  if  to  strike  them, 
they  warding  it  off  with  their  shields ;  immediately 
after  they  embrace  him  and  lead  him  into  the 
camp,  where  the  women  bring  him  food." ^  Some- 
what like  scenes  of  mock  scrimmage  m?.y  be  wit- 
nessed among  us  at  the  landing  of  a  Transatlantic 
liner  or  on  the  arrival  of  trains  from  Albany, 
let  us  say,  or  Washington.  But  even  less  distin- 
guished travellers  than  English  militants  or  French 
actresses  or  American  politicians  are  "met"  to 
be  welcomed  or  congratulated.  "I  am  glad  you 
got  back  safely,"  says  the  polite  American  to  his 
acquaintance  returned  from  a  trip  abroad.*  * '  Have 
you  journeyed  in  safety?"  ask  the  Awemba,  ex- 
pecting the  stereotyped  answer:  "Yes,  God  has 

♦"After  a  return  from  Europe,"  I  read  in  an  American  book 
on  etiquette,  "it  is  proper  to  call  in  person,  or  to  leave  a  card." 
{Manners  and  Social  Usages,  p.  7.     New  York  and  London,  1907.) 


12  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

spoken  to  us  on  the  way."'°  ''Kulika  lutalo'^  *^I 
congratulate  you  on  your  safe  return,"  says  one 
M'ganda  to  another.  '' AwOy'  ** Thank  you." 
'' Kulika  nyoy'  "I  congrattilate  you  very  much." 

To  those  who  have  been  solicitous  the  returned 
traveller  makes  presents — to  the  prayerful  elders 
in  Japan  among  the  Ainu,  to  his  yutchin*  among 
the  Dieri"  of  Australia,  to  friends  and  kindred 
among  us.  Among  us,  although  these  souvenirs 
of  travel  are  still  provided  for  in  our  customs  regu- 
lations, they  are  no  longer  a  matter  of  course ;  but 
I  remember  the  time  when  no  one  ever  thought 
of  returning  from  abroad  without  a  present  for 
every  member  of  his  family  or  household.  One  of 
my  acquaintances  on  her  first  "  trip-to-Europe " 
brought  back  a  French  hat  to  her  cook. 

The  returned  traveller  has  prestige.  He  is 
given  a  public  reception  or  feted  in  private.  The 
neighbours  want  to  hear  his  yams — even  if  they  do 
not  always  believe  them.  His  friends — if  they 
are  sufficiently  devoted — take  an  interest  in  the 
photographs  he  has  made  or  bought,  or  if  they  are 

*  A  friend  who  collects  presents  for  him  while  he  is  away.  To 
remember  his  promise  to  bring  presents  to  his  yutchin,  a  Dieri 
traveller  has  a  string  of  flax  or  human  hair  tied  around  his  neck, 
having  no  handkerchief  to  knot  or  ring  to  change  to  another 
finger. 


Travellers  13 

Ainu  listen  by  the  hour  to  the  stories  he  chants 
to  them.'^  Among  the  Dieri  after  his  news  is 
whispered  to  the  relatives  and  friends  sitting 
around,  it  is  repeated  in  a  loud  voice  to  the  whole 
camp.^^  Among  us  he  is  interviewed  by  news- 
paper reporters  and  the  public  reads  his  travel 
book.  He  is  noted  thereafter  as  a  man  who  has 
been  around  the  world  or  who  has  visited  its 
remote  or  wild  or  holy  places. 

The  traveller  to  holy  places,  the  pilgrim,  ac« 
_£utesj£ecial^£restig^^jp^^  The  Moslem  who 
has  been  to  Mecca  is  entitled  to  wear  a  green 
turban  and  tunic  for  the  rest  of  his  life'^ — has  he 
not  compelled  the  gods  by  his  pilgrimage  to  for- 
give his  sins  and  grant  his  requests?  For  like 
reasons  the  medieval  Christian  who  had  reached 
Jerusalem  was  venerated; — in  those  days  to  dis- 
count the  advantages  of  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Land  one  had  to  be  as  arrogant  of  soul  as  Frederick 
the  Second.  To  other  lords  of  the  earth  pilgrimage 
and  even  travel  for  secular  ambitions  have  brought 
prestige.  Did  not  India  add  to  Alexander's  re- 
putation, Gaul  and  England  to  Caesar's,  Rome  to 
Alaric's,  Africa  and  South  America  to  Roosevelt's? 

To  the  chief's  forerunner,  the  medicine-man  or 
priest,  travel  is  also  one  of  the  sources  of  prestige 
he  usually  avails  himself  of.     In  savage  tribes  he 


14  Fear  and  Conventionality 

is  the  foremost  or  only  traveller;  as  a  Buddhist 
monk  he  was  among  the  first  to  journey  from  India 
to  Alexandria,  from  China  to  India,  or  as  a  Catho- 
lic friar  from  Europe  to  Tibet,  to  Japan,  to  the 
New  World.  In  Africa  the  Christian  missionary 
is  still  the  first  to  shoulder  the  White  Man*s  bur- 
den, and  a  year  or  so  ago  the  Bab  himself  visited 
the  United  States. 

But  the  medicine-man  goes  even  beyond  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  One  of  his  greatest  professional 
assets  is  his  story  of  his  trip  to  Ghost-land,  to  the 
Other  World,  to  the  Home  of  the  Gods,  or  to  the 
Throne  of  God.  And  medicine-men  almost  al- 
ways claim  to  have  the  power  to  travel  away  from 
their  own  body  and  incarnate  themselves  in  other 
persons  or  in  animals.  Moreover  they  have  only 
to  predict  with  assurance  about  their  own  exist- 
ence after  death,  the  boundary  line  of  the  Un- 
known Country,  to  found  a  cult,  sometimes  tran- 
sient, sometimes,  as  in  Christianity,  abiding. 

To  many  peoples  Ghost-land  is  a  fixed  place. 
Ghosts  are  supposed  either  to  linger  about  their 
old  haunts  or  to  travel  to  a  locality  more  or  less 
well  mapped-out.  Their  life  goes  on  with  as 
little  break  as  possible.*     Death  is  but  a  journey, 

*  This  continuity  theory  of  life  after  death  probably  accounts 
in  part  for  the  comparative  indifference  to  death  of  the  peoples 


Travell 


ers  15 


and  so  like  other  wayfarers  the  dying  expect  to 
have  ceremonies  performed  for  them  to  lessen 
the  embarrassments  or  dangers  botmd  to  beset 
them.  A  whale's  tooth  was  put  in  the  hand  of  a 
Fijian  to  throw  at  a  pandanus  tree  and  thereby 
assure  the  dispatch  to  him  of  his  wife.'^  The 
Greek  was  given  a  gold  piece  as  a  tip  to 
his  ghostly  ferryman.  A  pillow  of  soil  from 
Jerusalem  is  put  under  the  encoffined  head  of  a 
Jew  dying  in  Eastern  Europe  to  save  him  from 
rolling  underground,  afflicted  by  the  angels,  all 
the  way  to  Jerusalem,  a  journey  taking  forty 
years. '  ^  In  the  coffin  of  a  Yezidi  Kurd  are  placed 
silver  and  a  stick  wherewith  to  bribe  or  beat  his 
postmortem  catechists  into  letting  him  into 
Heaven.*^  Entombed  with  a  Chinaman  are  a 
miniature  sedan  chair  of  bamboo  or  paper,  paper 
models  of  chairmen,  and  paper  money  to  pay  them 
with;  and  to  furnish  LH-in  or  a  "passport  for 
travelling  from  this  life  to  the  next"*  is  a  specialty 
of  Chinese  priests. ' '   A  viaticum  is  provided  for  the 


who  hold  it.  But  even  a  believer  in  a  religion  preaching  reward 
and  punishment  after  death  can  urge  us  to  "prepare  our  life 
...  to  that  last  and  heavenly  pilgrimage  by  the  custom  of  .  .  . 
travels  here  on  earth."     (Coryat,  i,  148.) 

*  Such  a  passport  the  Greek  Church,  it  is  said,  once  furnished 
a  deceased  Russian  grand  duchess.  (Parsons,  Elsie  Clews,  The 
Old- Fashioned  Woman,  p.  317.     New  York,  1913.) 


i6  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Catholic,  and  in  Italy  in  the  seventeenth  century 
it  was  his  privilege  to  be  buried  in  the  cowl  of  a 
Franciscan  friar,  it  having  the  virtue,  it  was  be- 
lieved, of  remitting  a  third  part  of  his  sins.*° 
Masses  are  still  said  by  Catholics  to  expedite  the 
journey  of  their  beloved  dead  from  Purgatory 
to  Paradise.  Except  in  the  most  modem  cults, 
enough  food  and  drink  are  almost  always  provided 
at  a  funeral  to  last  the  departing  spirit  through 
the  beginning  at  least  of  his  journey. 

The  way  in  which  the  dying  set  off  is  considered 
almost  everywhere  important.  In  New  Guinea 
a  dying  man  has  to  be  propped  up  in  a  squatting 
position,  his  hands  lying  in  his  lap.*'  **I  want 
for  nothing  but  to  die  in  the  correct  way,"  said 
Confucius.**  Making  a  pious  ending,  dying 
placidly,  serene  to  the  last,  meeting  death  with  a 
smile,  are  auspicious  and  notable  circumstances 
to  most  Christian  biographers.  The  fact  that 
indifference  or  apathy  is  the  characteristic  mood 
at  death  they  persistently  overlook.  Death- 
bed scenes  are  essential,  they  think,  to  their 
story.  But  in  real  life  the  dying  are  sup- 
posed to  be  "seen  off"  too.*      Neighbours  and 

*  Except  when  the  fear  their  departure  excites  has  overwhelmed 
other  feelings.  Then  they  are  taken  ceremonially  out-of-doors 
or  borne  away  from  home  and  sometimes  left  to  die  alone.  Much 
of  corpse  taboo  is  amply  explained  by  dread  of  the  unusual. 


Travellers  17 

relatives*  are  sent  for  to  gather  around  them 
in  prayer  or  for  a  last  word,  and  great  signifi- 
cance attaches  to  their  farewells  or  blessings.  By 
the  Jews  of  the  Near  East  they  are  given  mes- 
sages to  carry  to  the  patriarchs  and  the  pro- 
phets, and  distinguished  Rabbis  are  entrusted 
with  letters  in  their  coffins  to  deceased  friends.  "^ 
African  potentates  have  had  the  habit  of  de- 
spatching slaves  to  carry  messages  to  their  dead 
forebears  or  to  give  them  the  latest  mundane 
news. 

Like  other  travellers  the  dead  have  prestige. 
Sometimes  more  attention  is  paid  to  them  than 
they  ever  received  in  life,  and  they  arouse 
deeper  feelings  of  fear  or  affection  or  pity. 
Their  wishes  are  considered,  their  failings  over- 
looked or  even  respected.  Particularly  impressive 
is  he  who  sets  off  on  the  long  journey  of  his 
own  will,  because  he  merely  wants  a  change. 
To  some  communities  a  suicide  appears  so 
potent  a  ghost  that  his  coffin  is  nailed  down  or 
stakes  are  driven  through  his  corpse  or  he  is  de- 
nied burial  in  consecrated  ground.  His  act  is 
stirring  or  shocking — to  those  in  the  habit  of  liv- 

*  A  Vedda  who  was  not  summoned  to  the  death-bed  of  his 
father-in-law  would  be  as  much  put  out  at  being  overlooked  as 
one  of  us  under  like  circumstances.  (Seligmann,  The  Veddas, 
P-  115.) 


1 8  Fear  and  Conventionality 

ing — and  he  becomes  the  recipient  of  virulent 
abuse  or,  more  rarely,  of  unmeasured  praise.  The 
lack  of  fear  shown  in  his  voluntary  departure 
may  inspire  admiration,  a  wondering,  pitying,  un- 
certain kind  of  admiration.  And  yet  has  he  not 
shirked  every  conventionality  of  dying,  alike  in 
theory  and  in  practice?  Has  he  not  been  incon- 
siderate of  those  he  leaves  behind,  sometimes  to  the 
extent  of  not  even  taking  leave  of  them?  Js  he 
not  taking  a  journey  imcompelled-^byLxirxjum- 
stance  and  without  any  very  definite  purpose,  not 
even  giving  the  wonted  assurance  that  he  will  be 
back  soon? — unless  he  has  killed  himself,  as  the 
Chinaman  sometimes  does,  the  better  to  qualify 
himself  to  take  a  revenge. 

The  feeling  aroused  in  us  by  suicide,  whether 
admiration  or  antagonism,  betrays  the,attitude 
of  iear  we  take  towards  the  Last  Journey.^ 
Only  more  intense,  it  is  the  same  attitude  adopted 
in  the  past  towards  all  journeying.  It  is  because 
of  our  apprehensiveness  of  the  unknown  besetting 
travel  and  of  the  changes  incident  to  it,  that  we 
are  so  scrupulous  to  say  good-bye  and  see  people 
off,  that  we  are  anxious  until  we  see  them  again,  and 
that  we  congratulate  them  or  perform  ceremonies 
of  welcome  on  their  return — on  their  return  to  the 
certainties  and  stabilities  of  home. 


Ill 

HOSPITALITY :  THE  GUEST 

\\TELL  aware  of  the  attitude  towards  him  of  the 
^  *  man  who  does  not  know  him,  an  under- 
standing traveller,  a  man  of  parts,  will  be  adapt- 
able. "When  you  are  in  Rome,  do  as  the  Romans 
do,"  is  a  coimsel  of  protective  colouration,  as  it 
were.  "A  man  of  the  world  must,  like  the  chame- 
leon, be  able  to  take  every  different  hue,"  writes 
Lord  Chesterfield.*  "To  avoyde  envye  and  to 
keepe  companye  pleasauntlye  with  every  man, 
let  him  do  whatsoever  other  men  do,"^  is  the 
advice  given  to  the  ideal  courtier.  In  courts 
and  out  of  them  much  of  the  etiquette  of  hos- 
pitality is  based  indeed  on  the  theory  of  a  new- 
comer's conformity.  When  Dr.  Felkin  appeared 
one  day  in  the  royal  court  of  Uganda  with  his 
hair  cut,  King  Mutesa  was  so  flattered,  f  a  shaven 

*  Letter  XXX.  None  understood  better  the  value  of  conform- 
ity in  the  art  of  self -protection. 

t  On  another  occasion  Felkin  was  less  happy.  That  his  guest 
might  be  properly  served  the  King  ofiFered  him  the  sum  of  eighteen 
wives,    Felkin  declined  the  present.     "Why  not  take  them?" 

19 


20  Fear  and  Conventionality 

crown  being  a  court  fashion,  that  he  sent  his  guest 
a  goat.'*  It  was  quite  natural  for  Batchelor's 
Ainu  hosts  to  ask  him  to  seal  his  brotherhood 
with  them  by  having  his  ears  pierced  like  theirs 
for  a  piece  of  red  flannel.  ^  It  was  natural  too 
for  the  new-found  friends  of  Zeyneb  Hanoum, 
the  desenchanVee  who  escaped  from  Constantinople 
to  Paris,  to  send  her  hats.  "Hardly  a  day  passes 
but  someone  sends  us  a  hat/*  she  writes.-*  She 
had  twenty. 

A  guest  is  expected  not  to  boast  of  his  own  gods, 
or  at  least  not  to  decry  his  host's — a  breach  oi 
hospitality  sometimes  greatly  to  the  discredit  oi 
the  missionary.  Were  he  more  mannerly  he 
would  be  more  reticent  and  might  even,  like  othei 
guests,  go  to  church  with  the  family*  and  join  in 
family  prayersf   and   in  saying  whatever  grace 

asked  the  King.  "Haven't  you  any  women  in  your  country?* 
"Yes,  but  we  allow  only  one  wife,  and  \fre  do  not  make  present' 
of  women  wholesale."  Then  the  King  fell  into  a  rage.  "Yot 
come  here  and  say  all  men  are  brothers,"  he  cried,  "and  thai 
your  God  loves  us  as  well  as  you,  and  yet  you  think  yourselvei 
too  good  to  live  as  we  do.    Ugh!"     (Wilson  and  Felkin,  ii,  17.] 

*  "A  mannerly  guest  will  cheerfully  accompany  the  family  tc 
their  church,  even  tho'  it  be  of  a  different  faith  from  her  own 
and  she  will  listen  respectfully  to  the  sermon,  and  refrain  fron 
ungracious  criticism  of  the  choir  or  the  minister."  (Morton 
A.  H.,  Etiquette,  pp.  123-4.     Philadelphia,  191 1.)  . 

t  If  the  hour  of  family  worship  "is  mentioned  to  guests,  theii 
presence  is  obligatory."  {The  Complete  Hostess f  p.  284.  Nev 
York,  1906.) 


Hospitality  t   TKe  Gxiest  21 

was  usual  among  those  he  was  visiting.  Even  his 
colleague  in  civilization  waits  to  be  asked  to  say 
grace  when  he  is  dining  out.*  And  as  a  rule  he  is 
careful  not  to  introduce  religious  topics  at  the 
dinner  table.  In  fact,  to  be  quite  safe,  no  man- 
nerly guest  will  mention  religion  at  all.f  Use 
"no  freedom  with  others  about  their  religious 
sentiments,"  wrote  Dr.  Gregory  to  his  daughters.* 
Politics  we  know  is  also  at  times  an  eschewed 
topic  of  conversation.  These  rules  of  polite  inter- 
course are  becoming  somewhat  out  of  date  in  the 
United  States,  perhaps  because  in  this  country 
neither  church  nor  state  excites  enough  interest 
as  a  rule  to  provoke  heated  discussion  and  to  be, 
therefore,  a  dangerous  subject  of  conversation. 
Still  their  critics  are  apt  to  show  enough  consid- 
eration for  an  interlocutor  to  preface  criticism 
with:  "You  are  not  a  Catholic,  are  you?" — "I 
don't  know  what  your  politics  are,  but,"  etc. 
The  Chinese  rule  on  the  whole  seems  safer,  ^f^ 
the  host  have  not  put  some  question,  the  visitor 
should  not  begin  the  conversation."  ^ 

A  well-behaved  guest  should  be  very  careful 

*  Asking  an  ecclesiastical  guest  to  say  grace  is  nowadays  a 
striking  instance,  by  the  way,  of  how  hard  a  host  will  try  to  make 
a  guest  feel  at  home. 

t  Nor  uninvited  attend  family  prayers.  His  presence  "would 
be  an  intrusion."     {The  Complete  Hostess,  p.  284.) 


22  Fear  and  Conventionality 

in  making  known  his  wants  or  tastes.  They  may 
be  unlike  those  of  his  host,  and  his  host  may 
therefore  be  disconcerted  by  not  being  able  to 
provide  for  them.  It  is  a  little  hard  on  your 
hostess  to  tell  her  you  never  can  sleep  in  a  light 
room  when  her  house  is  neither  built  nor  fur- 
nished to  shut  out  the  sun.  Greatly  mortified 
must  have  been  the  hostess  of  the  guest  who 
exclaimed  when  the  roast  was  offered  to  her: 
"My  grandmother  Jones  never  could  eat  lamb, 
and  I  never  can."^  No  guest  should  run  the 
risk  of  letting  her  hostess  think  that  partiality 
for  a  darkened  bedroom  or  for  French  chops 
or  partridge  is  evidence  on  her  part  of  a 
superior  taste.     However  tacit, _£on^)arisons_to 

Jh^  -/iisad van ta gp    nf    a^    hoRt.    s|inii1rl     nfivPT    hg_ 
indulged  in. 

Obviously  the  considerate  guest  will  eat  or 
drink  whatever  is  set  before  him.  **A  guest 
should  not  rinse  his  mouth  with  spirits  till  the 
host  has  gone  over  all  the  dishes,"  prescribes 
one  of  the  Chinese  classics.^  Whether  hungry 
or  not,  the  Iroquois  guest  was  boimd  to  taste 
of  every  dish  presented  to  him  and  say,  ''Hz- 
ne-d'-wehy'"  "I  thank  you."^  In  many  other 
circles  in  the  United  States  a  guest  is  expected 
to  taste   at   least    of    every    dish   served,    par- 


Hospitality  t   THe  Guest  23 

ticularly  the  soup;*  and  dishes  are  pressed  upon 
him  or  as  something  " special*'  called  to  his  at- 
tention. Having  in  self-preservation  to  decline 
them,  he  will  at  least  make  elaborate  excuses  for 
his  failure  of  appetite.  Scrupulous  to  avoid  the 
merest  suggestion  of  criticism,  he  will  take  the 
entire  blame  upon  himself.  To  pointed  ques- 
tions, he  says  that  he  likes  dark  meat  as  well  as 
white,  the  well  cooked  as  well  as  the  underdonef; 
he  drinks  his  tea  or  coffee  "just  as  it  comes";  as 
for  his  breakfast,  "whatever  you  have  will  do  for 
me/'  he  genially  responds. 

"Bet  prayse  thi  fare,  wer-so-ever  thou  be, 
Fore  be  it  gode  or  be  it  badde, 
Yu  gud  worth  it  muste  be  had."*° 

Not  to  eat  what  is  given  to  him  may  be  impolitic 
or  even  imprudent  in  a  guest.  Among  the  Steins, 
a  Shan  tribe  of  Siam,  unless  a  visitor  eats  all  that 
is  set  before  him  and  drinks  through  his  bamboo 
tube  out  of  the  common  cup,  he  is  liable  to  be 
knifed."    There  was  a  time  when  "challenged*' 

*  "If  soup  is  helped  first,  take  some,  whether  you  like  it  or 
not;  ...  sip  a  few  spoonfuls,  if  you  'do  no  more."  (Farrar, 
Mrs.  John,  The  Young  Lady's  Friend,  p.  343.  New  York, 
1841.) 

t  And  yet  it  may  be  more  polite  "to  make  a  choice,  whether 
you  have  a  preference  or  not;  because  it  is  most  agreeable  to  the 
carver,  to  have  the  matter  decided  by  you."     (76.,  p.  344') 


24  Fear  and  Conventionality 

at  table  to  take  wine  no  American  guest  would 
dare  decline.  Even  a  lady  was  supposed  to  "ac- 
cept the  challenge  graciously."  "Choose  one  of 
the  wines  named  to  you,"  she  was  told,  "look  full 
at  the  gentleman  you  are  to  drink  with,  then  drop 
your  eyes  as  you  bow  your  head  to  him,  and  lift 
the  glass  to  your  lips,  whether  you  drink  a  drop 
or  not.  If  challenged  a  second  time,  accept,  and 
have  a  drop  added  to  your  glass,  and  bow  as 
before."" 

In  particulars  tmrelated  to  the  table  a  guest  will 
endeavour  too  not  to  disturb  the  family  habits  or 
the  household  routine.  He  will  "interfere  as  little 
as  possible  with  the  regular  avocations  of  the 
family. " '  ^  He  must  * '  never  be  in  the  way. " '  ^  A 
New  Guinea  guest  is  expected  not  to  hang  around 
the  circle  of  stones  where  his  host  lounges  to  gos- 
sip.'^  Although  an  American  guest  "should  aim 
to  feel  and  act  as  though  the  interests  and  pleasures 
of  the  family  were  his  own,"^^  he  must  not  treat 
the  servants,  he  is  told,  or  any  of  his  host's  things, 
as  if  they  belonged  to  him. '  ^ 

Nor  is  a  guest  expected  to  ask  questions  as  a 
rule  about  the  household  machinery.  It  is  sup- 
posed in  fact  to  be  more  or  less  invisible  to  him — 
or  shall  we  change  the  sex  for  a  moment  and  say,  to 
her?    Parts  of  the  house  she  may  never  enter,  and 


Hospitality's   THe  Guest  25 

in  general  she  must  make  her  approach  with  care. 
If  possible  she  will  inform  her  hostess  in  advance 
of  the  hour  of  her  arrival,  knowing  that  her  hostess 
wishes  not  only  to  pay  her  the  compliment  of 
meeting  her  but  that  no  hostess  likes  to  be  taken 
unexpectedly.  Should  she  fail  "to  make  the 
train  or  boat  by  which  she  is  expected,  she  should 
at  once  wire  or  long-distance  'phone  her  hostess, 
explaining  the  mishap,  and  suggesting  that  no 
trouble  be  taken  about  hitching  up  to  meet  her, 
but  that  she  will  endeavour  to  get  to  her  friend's 
house  in  a  depot  hack  or  hired  conveyance."'* 
But  even  where  there  are  no  postal  or  telegraph 
or  long-distance  telephone  facilities  in  the  coun- 
try, visitors  are  careful  not  to  take  their  hosts 
unaware.  A  Blackfellow  would  not  think  of 
suddenly  breaking  in  upon  the  privacy  of  the 
horde  he  is  about  to  visit.  He  warns  it  of  his  ar- 
rival by  building  a  fire  or  even  a  series  of  little 
fires  some  distance  off.'''  Within  sight  of  the 
camp,  he  sits  down  waiting  to  be  invited  in.*** 
Throughout  the  Orient,  it  is  good  manners  to 
send  on  your  servant  to  annoimce  your  coming. 
Among  grandees  heralds  have  ever  been  important 
functionaries. 

On  entering  a  man's  house  or  room  a  visitor 
should  also  announce  himself  or  let  himself  be  an- 


26  Fear  and  Conventionality 

nounced.  We  knock  on  the  door  or  send  in  our 
visiting  card.  As  he  approaches  a  M'ganda  calls 
out,  "Abemuno  mwemulit?''  **You  of  the  place, 
are  you  there  P"^''  A  quarter  of  a  mile  away  from 
an  encampment  a  Vedda  stops  and  shouts  and 
does  not  go  on  until  an  answering  shout  is  heard.  ^^ 
Nearing  a  house  an  Ainu  makes  a  prolonged 
guttural  sound — " he-he-he-he-hem.  "^^  A  China- 
man raises  his  voice.  ^^^  Nor  would  a  Chinaman 
go  directly  up  the  steps  to  his  host.  "I,  so- 
and-so,"  he  says  to  the  "  officer  of  communication," 
"  earnestly  wish  to  see  him."^^  Even  within  the 
house  when  about  to  enter  the  door,  he  knows 
*'he  must  keep  his  eyes  cast  down,"  nor,  having 
to  look  up  or  down,  should  he  turn  his  head.*** 

A  guest  has  to  be  careful  in  general  about  his 
movements  through  the  house.  With  us  he  is 
expected  to  go  through  a  doorway  first,  his  host 
holding  back  and  sometimes  saying,  "After  you" 
or  *'You  first."  In  China  he  is  invited  to  go 
first,  but  he  is  expected  to  refuse  firmly,  and  then 
to  enter  together  with  his  host.  Having  entered, 
the  host  moves  to  the  right  to  the  steps  on  the 
east  and  the  guest  to  the  left  to  the  steps  on  the 
west.  "They  then  offer  to  each  other  the  prece- 
dence in  going  up,  but  the  host  commences  first. 
They  bring  their  feet  together  on  every  step," 


Hospitality:    THe  G\iest  27 

the  host  moving  his  right  foot  first,  the  guest  his 
left.*'  A  Comanche  host  is  as  offended  if  his 
guest*  does  not  pass  through  his  lodge  and  take 
the  seat  pointed  out  to  him*^  as  would  be  a  China- 
man if  his  guest  did  not  sit  facing  the  south'' 
or  a  New  England  housewife  if  her  visitor  did  not 
come  in  at  the  front  door  and  sit  down  in  the 
rocking-chair  in  the  "parlor.'* 

Of  course  guests  are  not  expected  to  stray  about 
or  explore.  Visiting  Blackfellows  are  required  al- 
ways to  reach  the  place  assigned  them  in  the  camp 
by  going  behind  the  huts  and  not  in  front.  3**  In 
Santal  houses  the  "stranger's  seat"  is  outside  the 
door.^'  Strangers  are  not  allowed  on  one  of  the 
verandahs  of  the  Kakhyen  tribesman's  house,t 
and  when  Parker  was  travelling  in  the  Kakhyen 
country  with  the  British  inspectors  of  the  Burma- 
Chinese  boundary  he  was  never  invited  into  the 
back  region  of  the  Kakhyen  house  and  to  his 
chagrin  he  could  get  no  idea  of  what  went  on 
there.  Mrs.  Farrar  advised  young  ladies  to  save 
the  domestics  of  their  hostess  unnecessary  steps  by 


*The  Eskimo  guest  is  similarly  conducted  by  his  host  to  the 
place  set  for  him.  (Egede,  Hans,  A  Description  of  Greenland,  p. 
126.     London,  1818.) 

t  For  a  stranger  to  enter  by  the  back  door  would  be  not  only 
very  impolite,  but  an  outrage  upon  the  tutelary  spirit  of  the 
house.     (Colquhoun,  ii,  348.) 


38  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

waiting  on  themselves  providing  their  hostess  had 
"no  objection"  to  guests  entering  her  kitchen.^* 
I  have  seen  American  housewives  of  a  later 
period  show  much  annoyance  at  guests  **  pok- 
ing about"  in  their  pantries — even  when  intro- 
duced into  them  by  younger  members  of  the 
family. 

A  modern  nursery  a  guest  enters  only  on  invi- 
tation, and  very  young  members  of  the  family 
are  apt  at  any  rate  to  be  secluded  from  guests. 
I  have  been  on  week-end  parties  near  New  York 
without  learning  even  the  number  of  the  child- 
ren in  the  family.  Elsewhere  a  guest  may  be 
kept  in  ignorance  not  only  of  the  offspring  of  the 
host  but  of  his  wife  or  wives.  In  Uganda,  for 
example,  wives  as  well  as  children  eat  in  private 
when  the  head  of  the  household  is  entertaining  a 
guest.  ^^  The  family  life  is  in  fact  usually  kept 
away  or  protected  from  a  guest — sometimes  on 
the  plea,  a  valid  plea  too,  that  he  is  protected 
from  it.  "Before  an  honored  visitor  we  should 
not  shout  even  at  a  dog,"  reads  the  Li  Ki.  Nor 
when  declining  food,  the  Chinese  teaching  on 
hospitality  continues,  should  one  spit.^^  When 
Blackfellows  are  hosts  to  a  visiting  hprde  si- 
lence reigns  at  night  in  the  camp,  for  it  would 
be    a    breach   of    etiquette   to    indulge    in    the 


Hospitality  s   THe  G\sest  29 

usual  night  squabbles."  "Company  manners" 
are  "put  on"  for  a  guest. 

Then  he,  or  more  particularly  she,  is  "enter- 
tained.*'* People  are  asked  to  "meet"  herf — 
perhaps  the  easiest  of  methods  of  keeping  a 
guest  occupied  and  rendering  her  innocuous. 

On  the  other  hand  a  guest  must  be  very 
particular  about  bringing  outsiders  into  the 
family,  particularly,  I  am  told,  if  the  hostess 
is  a  woman  of  fashion.}  At  any  rate  for  a 
girl  "to  take  the  liberty  of  receiving  a  man  with- 
out asking  permission  of  her  hostess  would  be 
tmpardonable."^^  Having  given  her  permission, 
a  hostess  will  welcome  her  guest's  caller,  "but 
after  a  little  withdraw,  on  some  pretext  or  other, 
to  an  adjoining  room,  returning  to  take  leave  of 

•"If  the  guest  be  a  young  girl,  she  [the  hostess]  will  arrange 
for  a  girls'  luncheon,  a  small  dance,  or  card  party,  the  latter 
being  an  easy  way  of  entertaining  either  old  or  young,  but  not 
to  be  considered,  of  course,  if  her  visitor  has  no  knowledge  of, 
or  even  liking  for,  that  form  of  amusement,  to  say  nothing  of 
religious  scruples  against  it. "     {The  Complete  Hostess ^  p.  280.) 

The  Eskimos  spend  whole  da3rs  and  nights  in  singing  and 
dancing  to  entertain  their  guests  from  abroad.     (Egede,  p.  163.) 

t"The  hostess  will  naturally  desire  her  friends  to  show  her 
some  attention. "    {The  Complete  Hostess,  p.  280.) 

t  "If  the  hostess  be  a  very  fashionable  woman  and  the  visitor 
decidedly  not  so,  it  is  .  .  .  vulgar  to  make  one's  friend  who  may 
be  a  guest  in  the  house  a  sort  of  entering  wedge  for  an  acquaint- 
ance; a  card  should  be  left,  but  unaccompanied  by  any  request 
to  see  the  lady  of  the  house."  {Manners  and  Social  Usages,  p. 
16.) 


30  Fear  and  Conventionalitx 

the  visitor  ere  he  departs."^'  This  ceremony  is 
prompted  in  part  at  least  by  the  theory  that  a 
kind  of  indivisibility  exists  between  hostess  and 
guest.  It  is  rude,  for  example,  not  to  leave  a 
card  on  a  guest  when  you  are  calling  on  her 
hostess  or  vice  versa  on  the  hostess  when  your 
call  is  for  the  guest,  ^^  or,  again,  to  invite  to 
a  party  a  guest  without  her  hostess  or  a  hostess 
without  her  guest.  ^^  Nor,  "iinless  the  guest  be  a 
frequent  visitor,  or  a  sensible  one  who  insists 
upon  it,"  will  any  hostess  "leave  her  for  an  entire 
evening" — at  least  "without  providing  something 
for  her  amusement  or  entertainment." "^^ 

If  by  chance  company  manners  break  down 
during  a  visit — there  may  be  sickness  in  the  family 
or  some  crisis  in  family  affairs  may  occur — the 
least  a  guest  can  do  is  to  send  a  message  to  him- 
self calling  him  away  on  important  business.  A 
letter  or  telegram  is  necessary  for  two  reasons — 
it  enables  him  to  continue  ignoring  the  family 
crisis,  and  it  keeps  him  from  violating  the  general 
rule  of  hospitality  of  not  leaving  before  the  ap- 
pointed time — at  least  without  an  acceptable 
excuse  and  a  ready  response  to  the  customary 
query — "Must  you  really  go?"  With  the  best 
of  intentions  or  manoeuvres  it  may  be  imposs- 
ible for  a  guest  to  be  blind   to  what  is  going 


Hospitality  t    THe  Guest  31 

on.  Besides  he  may  by  the  merest  accident 
open  the  door  of  the  family  skeleton's  closet.  In 
such  case  he  is  expected  of  course  after  he  leaves 
not  to  "violate  the  privacy  of  the  family."  He 
is  at  any  rate  expected  not  to  talk  much  about 
his  hosts,  and  certainly  not  to  criticise  them. 
Gossip  about  their  "peculiarities"  or  about  the 
"family  imperfections"  is  in  very  bad  taste. ■♦' 
"Whatever  you  may  have  remarked  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  your  friends,  whilst  sharing  their 
hospitality,  should  never  transpire  through  your 
means."  "** 

In  fact,  once  you  have  broken  bread  with  a  man 
or  taken  a  drink  with  him,  you  are  in  many  places 
under  an  obligation  not  to  give  him  away  as  well 
as  not  to  kill  him.  Hence  not  to  accept  a  drink 
from  a  man  may  be  highly  significant.  It  may 
mean  that  you  have  designs  against  him.*  On 
the  other  hand  it  may  also  mean  that  you  be- 
lieve he  has  designs  against  you.f  The  prac- 
tice of  "treating"  has  deeper  roots  than  at  first 
appears,  and  that  anti-treat  reform  which  origi- 

*  This  notion  may  account  for  the  excess  expected  of  guests  at 
table. 

t  The  Papuans  of  Humboldt  Bay  would  not  touch  the  water 
offered  them  by  their  European  visitors.  (Crawley,  p.  157.) 
A  little  boy  I  know  refuses  to  eat  from  another's  plate  or  drink 
from  his  glass.     "I'd  get  his  taste,"  says  he. 


3t  Fear  and  Conventionality 

nated  some  time  ago  in  New  York,  a  harder  road 
to  travel.  Indeed  to  realize  the  ambitiousness  of 
his  campaign,  the  anti-treat  New  Yorker  should  be 
familiar  with  an  incident  alleged  to  have  occurred 
at  the  original  landing  of  the  Dutch  on  his  island. 
It  is  said  that  the  Manhattan  Indians  were  drawn 
up  in  a  circle  to  receive  the  Dutch  captain,  to 
their  awe-struck  eyes  a  great  red-habited  Manitou, 
and  that  the  first  act  of  the  Dutchman  was  to 
take  a  drink  from  a  cup  of  rum  and  then  to  offer 
the  cup  to  the  chief  standing  next  to  him.  The 
chief  smells  it  and  passes  it  on,  and  so  it  passes 
from  hand  to  hand  without  being  tasted,  until 
it  reaches  a  brave  who  is  not  only  a  great 
warrior  but  a  man  of  ideas.  He  at  once  warns 
the  company  of  the  impropriety  of  returning 
the  cup  full.  To  follow  the  example  of  the 
Manitou  and  take  a  drink  will  please  him,  not  to 
drink  will  annoy  him,  perhaps  enrage  him.  He 
himself  will  drink  whatever  the  consequences. 
Better  for  one  to  die  than  for  an  entire  tribe  to  be 
destroyed.  So  speaking  he  bids  the  assembly 
farewell  and  gulps  down  the  whole  contents*  of 
the  cup.^^ — Here  was  one  who  needed  no  books 

*  Needless  to  say  the  act  of  devotion  temporarily  incapacitates 
the  brave.  Notwithstanding,  he  is  soon  able  to  ask  for  another 
drink  and  to  encourage  his  friends  to  drink  with  him. 


Hospitality  t   TKe  Guest  33 

on  manners  to  teach  him  the  proper  relation  be- 
tween host  and  guest!  Is  it  because  we  have 
forgotten  the  reasoning  of  the  savage  that  we 
ourselves  have  to  depend  on  these  publications? 


IV 

hospitality:  the  host 

T^HE  ill-will  of  a  guest  is  everywhere  dreaded, 
partly  because  as  a  stranger  he  has,  like  tht 
Dutch  captain,  a  quasi-supernatural  character 
or,  in  the  words  of  the  Daghestan  highlanders 
he  is  **a  man  from  God,"'  and  partly  because 
despite  barriers  his  contact  with  his  host^  hat 
been  close  enough  to  allow  the  fear  of  contagious 
magic  to  be  entertained.  It  becomes  very  im 
portant,  therefore,  not  only  to  please  a  guest,  bu 
to  arouse  and  strengthen  in  him  a  sense  of  obliga 
tion.  And  so  a  host  offers  a  guest  his  best.*  I 
he  is  an  Anglo-Saxon  he  opens  a  bottle  of  hi 
best  old  wine.  If  he  is  a  M'ganda  he  gives  him  i 
pinch  of  salt,  a  rarity  in  Uganda.  ^  No  matte 
how  indifferent   a   Mattoal    Indian   may   be   t< 

*  Or  in  rare  instances  declines  to  offer  him  anything.  At  Pi 
lulaa  in  the  Solomon  Islands,  guests  have  to  bring  their  food  wit 
them;  it  is  always  a  "Dutch  treat"  because  of  the  belief  that 
guest  could  work  mysteriously  upon  a  host  through  a  morsel  ( 
his  food.     (Crawley,  p.  127.) 

34 


Hospitalitxt    TKe  Host  35 

the  wants  of  his  family,  with  his  guest  he  will 
share  his  last  crust — or  shred  of  dried  salmon.'* 
A  rich  Afghan  chief  is  satisfied  with  nothing  less 
than  the  slaying  of  a  sheep  when  he  receives  a 
distinguished  guest — as  Pennell,  the  medical  mis- 
sionary, once  appreciated  to  his  cost.  Having 
arrived  at  a  village  late  one  evening,  he  was  well 
entertained  by  the  chief*s  son,  the  chief  being 
away,  and  given  a  good  supper  of  fowl.  After 
a  wearisome  day,  he  was  soon  fast  asleep, 
only  to  be  aroused  at  one  A.M.,  to  partake  of 
the  sheep  the  returning  chief  had  had  killed 
when  he  learned  that  only  a  fowl  had  been 
offered  to  his  guest.  Such  a  lack  of  hospitality, 
protested  the  chief,  would  be  everlastingly  to  his 
discredit.  ^ 

Women  as  well  as  food  and  drink  are  not  un- 
commonly at  the  command  of  a  guest.  Marco 
Polo  tells  us  that  to  preclude  this  form  of  hospital- 
ity an  enlightened  ruler  of  the  Chinese  province  of 
Camul  ordered  the  people  to  provide  public  hostel- 
ries.  They  provided  them  for  three  years,  a  pe- 
riod, as  it  turned  out  for  them,  of  poor  harvests  and 
general  misfortune.  So  they  sent  a  grand  present 
to  their  ruler,  begging  him  to  let  them  return  to 
their  good  old  custom,  by  reason  of  which  alone 
their  gods  bestowed  upon  them  all  the  good  things 


36  Fear  and  Conventionality 

they  were  possessed  of.  ^  Whatever  the  motives, 
Eskimos,  Blackfellows,  and  several  other  peoples 
lend  their  wives  to  their  guests.  Even  where  this 
so-called  sexual  hospitality  is  not  in  vogue,  a  man 
sometimes  feels  it  incumbent  upon  him  not  to  join 
the  circle  of  his  wife's  callers  at  tea-time,  and  gen- 
erally not  to  monopolise  her  attention  when  other 
men  are  present. 

Guests  are  served  first — except  to  the  extent 
a  host  feels  called  upon  to  prove  himself  innocent 
of  murderous  or  of  magical  intent.  In  the  Banks* 
Islands  the  host  takes  the  first  bite  to  take  any 
risk  upon  himself.  ^  With  us  a  well-trained  butler 
always  pours  a  little  of  the  wine  into  the  host's 
glass  before  serving  it  to  the  guests,  just  as  among 
the  Krumen^  or  the  Makololo'  at  a  palm -wine  or 
beer  drinking-party  the  housewife  takes  the  first 
drink — to  take  off  the  "fetish"  or  to  prove  the 
beverage  unpoisoned.* 

Guests  are  given  the  most  honotirable  or  com- 
fortable seat, — the  east  or  sacred  end  of  the  hearth 
among  the  Ainu,"  the  sadr  or  floor  space  opposite 
the  door  end  of  the  room  in  Persia,"  the  camels* 
pack-saddles  piled  at  the  back  of  the  tent  or  in 

*  The  Fors  of  the  Soudan  give  their  guest  another  form  of 
assurance  by  offering  him  his  first  drink  in  a  cup  of  rhinoceros 
horn,  such  cups  having  the  virtue  of  betraying  whatever  may  be 
poisoning  their  contents.     (Wilson  and  Felkin,  ii,  275.) 


Hospitalitxt    THe  Host  37 

the  middle*  among  the  Aenezes,'^  the  sofa  or 
rocking-chair  with  us. 

To  be  quite  safe,  no  matter  how  hospitable  he 
intends  to  be,  a  host  may  receive  his  guest  with 
an  immunity-giving  rite.  As  soon  as  a  stranger 
appears  in  some  of  the  Arab  villages  of  Morocco, 
he  is  given  water  or,  if  he  is  an  important  person, 
milk  to  drink.  If  he  subsequently  misbehaves 
himself,  this  drink,  he  knows,  will  make  his  knees 
swell  up  and  keep  him  from  running  away.  Other 
Arabs  welcome  a  guest  by  pouring  on  his  head  a 
cup  of  melted  butter'^;  the  South  African  Hereros 
give  him  a  cup  of  milk,  '^  the  Awemba  of  Rhodesia 
a  gourd  of  beer,  ^  ^  his  American  host  or  hostess  a 
cocktail  or  a  cup  of  tea. 

When  a  Wemba  knows  the  path  his  guest  is 
taking  he  always  sends  his  children  out  to  meet 
him.'^  A  careful  American  host  always  "meets** 
his  guest  too,t  and  even  the  comparatively  casual 
English  send  to  meet  their  guests. 

A  true  host  will  of  course  take  no  compensation 
from  his  guest.    He  "feels  hurt"  by  any  offer  to 

*  It  is  impolite  to  put  them  near  the  side  post. 

t  "No  hostess  possessing  the  true  spirit  of  hospitality  will  fail 
to  meet  her  guests  at  the  station  or  landing;  or,  if  through  any 
reason  she  cannot,  a  member  of  the  family  will  be  delegated  to 
do  so  for  her,  she  conducting  them  upon  their  arrival  to  their 
chambers,  the  host  doing  likewise  for  his  male  guests."  {The 
Complete  Hostess,  p.  277.) 


38  Fear  and  Convexitionality 

pay,  having  no  intention  of  letting  a  guest  cancel 
his  debt  in  any  such  way.*  When  Dr.  Felkin  was 
in  Uganda  he  went  hungry  at  times,  he  tells  us, 
because  no  M'ganda  was  allowed  to  sell  anything 
to  the  King's  visitors. ^^  The  "paying  guest**  is 
an  entirely  English  innovation.  In  the  United 
States  even  feeing  the  servants  has  to  be  done  on 
the  sly,t  behind  the  back  of  one*s  host.  Officially 
he  knows  nothing  about  it,  and  he  is  embarrassed 
if  he  catches  his  guest  in  flagrante  delicto. 

The  least  a  host  expects  from  an  ex-guest  is  a 
return  of  hospitality.  So  well  aware  of  this  ex- 
pectation are  many  persons  that  they  will  not  ac- 
cept hospitalities  they  cannot  return.  They  know 
too  well  why  they  have  been  asked. 

"Retayne  a  straunger  after  his  estate  and  degree 
Another  tyme  may  happen  he  may  doe  as  much  for 
thee."'« 

More  exacting  hosts  feel  that  they  have  been 
entertaining    angels  t    unaware, — and    angels    al- 

*  Still  apprehensive  of  the  stranger,  he  may  be  afraid  to  take  a 
gift  from  him,  Westermarck  suggests,  gift-taking  often  involving 
a  risk.     {The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  i,  593.) 

t  Moreover  a  self-respecting  servant  will  often  refuse  a  fee,  we 
are  told,  "especially  if  he  or  she  be  American  born"  [and  so 
unwilling  to  recognise  a  class  distinction  ?] .  ( The  Complete  Hostess, 
p.  286.) 

I  According  to  the  Hitopadesa,  "a  guest  consists  of  all  the 


Hospitalit;yt    TKe  Host  39 

ways  express  their  gratitude  in  practical  ways, — 
or  that  hospitality  is  per  se  a  means  of  acquiring 
spiritual  merit,  magically  or  because  of  the  reli- 
gious sanction  attaching  to  it.  "The  hospitable 
reception  of  guests  procures  wealth,  fame,  long 
life,  and  heavenly  bliss,**  declares  Manu,''  the 
famous  Hindu  code  maker.  Hospitality  is  indeed 
a  sacred  duty. 

The  ceremonial  character  of  hospitality  is  con- 
spicuous at  leave-taking  in  other  particulars  be- 
sides tipping.  Set  speeches  are  usually  in  order 
between  host  and  guest  at  that  time.  ^'Kafikeni- 
pOf'' ''  May  you  arrive  safely,**  is  said  to  the  depart- 
ing Wemba  guest,  a  godspeed  to  which  he  makes 
answer:  '' Syaleni-po,''  **May  you  remain  here  in 
safety. '**"  ''Maze  kubalaba  ngenze,'"  says  a  polite 
M*ganda  guest,  "I  have  completed  my  visit  and 
am  going.  * '  ' '  Kale  genda, '  *  answers  his  host,  '  *  All 
right,  you  may  go.**^'  After  tying  up  his  things 
the  Masai  guest  says:  "Well,  I  am  about  to  go.'* 
The  owners  of  the  kraal  reply:  "All  right,  good- 
bye. Pray  to  God,  accost  only  the  things  which 
are  safe,  and  meet  nobody  but  blind  people.** 
To  this  wish  for  a  safe  journey  the  guest  responds: 

deities."  "Do  not  treat  strangers  slightingly,"  says  the  Ainu, 
"for  you  never  know  whom  you  are  entertaining."  (Wester- 
marck,  Moral  Ideas ^  i,  583.) 


40  Fear  and  Conventionality 

*'Lie  down  with  honey- wine  and  milk."  "So  be 
it,**  says  the  host,  and  then  at  last  the  guest  is 
free  to  depart.*^  In  the  Andaman  Islands  the 
departing  guest  blows  on  his  host's  hand  and  says: 
"Here  indeed  I.**  His  host  answers:  "Very  well, 
go;  when  will  you  come  again?'*  Guest:  "I  will 
bring  away  something  for  you  one  of  these  days.'* 
Host :  * '  May  no  snake  bite  you ! ' '  Guest :  "  I  will 
be  watchful."  Then  each  blowing  on  the  hands 
of  the  other,  they  part,  shouting  invitations  and 
promises  for  a  future  date  until  beyond  earshot.  ^^ 
"Well,  I  must  be  going,"  says  the  departing  Amer- 
ican guest,  declaring  what  a  good  time  she  has  had 
and  how  grateful  she  feels.  In  return  her  hostess 
makes  "some  little  civil  speech"  to  show  that  she 
is  sorry  her  guest  must  go  so  soon,^^  and  that  she 
hopes  she  will  repeat  her  visit.  She  will  underrate 
what  she  has  done  in  the  matter  of  hospitality, 
adding  that  at  some  future  date  she  will  indeed  be 
able  to  do  something  for  her  guest.  Then  Maria 
will  be  home  or  the  new  wing  will  be  finished  or 
the  strawberries  will  be  ripe. 

Other  than  verbal  ceremonies  are  customary. 
A  Persian  accompanies  his  guest  to  the  door,  a 
ceremony  called  mushaiyat.^^  An  American  or 
English  guest  is  apt  to  be  solicited  to  write  his 
name  in  a  "guest  book,"  a  kind  of  pledge  of  him- 


Hospitality  t   TKe  Host  41 

self,  if  one  considers  the  magical  connotation  of 
names.  Greek  host  and  guest  broke  a  die,  each 
keeping  a  half  as  a  souvenir.  Quite  often  the 
host  makes  his  guest  a  gift  at  parting,  gift-making 
being  a  common  way  in  primitive  culture  of  cere- 
monially binding  together  two  persons.  "  Because 
he  had  sat  on  it,**  the  Awemba  sent  Livingstone 
the  elephant's  tusk  which  had  served  him  in 
court  as  a  chair.  *^  Desirous  of  paying  his  host  a 
compliment  an  Andaman  Islander  will  ask  to  be 
given  one  of  the  children  of  the  family  to  bring  up 
as  his  own.*^  Among  us,  it  is  the  guest  rather 
than  the  host  who  makes  a  gift — to  the  lady  of  the 
house,  "a  new  book,  a  deck  of  cards  in  a  hand- 
some case,  a  bit  of  handwork  if  you  embroider, 
some  new  music";  if  you  are  a  girl,  flowers; 
a  "box  of  choice  confections",  if  a  man.* 
''Though  it  be  only  a  pincushion  or  a  guard  chain 
of  your  own  making,!  it  will  have  a  certain  value 
as  an  expression  of  the  gratitude  which  it  becomes 
you  to  feel.**^^  To  express  his  gratitude  for  the 
hospitality  he  had  received  from  the  royal  family 

*  Dame  Curtsey's  Book  of  Etiquette,  p.  108.  Chicago,  1910. 
A  man  guest  will  often  make  a  gift  too  on  arrival,  in  this  case 
"the  excellence  or  variety  of  the  article  only  excusing  the  gift." 
(The  Complete  Hostess,  p.  285.) 

t  Obviously  a  gift  made  by  oneself  is  more  of  a  pledge.  Hence 
in  the  ceremonial  of  gift-making  this  feature  is  always  empha- 
sized.    (See  The  Complete  Hostess,  p.  285.) 


42  Fear  and  Conventionality 

of  Loango,  on  his  return  home  a  prince  of  Congo 
is  said  to  have  dedicated  one  of  his  wives  to  the 
tutelary  god  of  his  host.  ^^  Unable  to  vie  with  an 
African  potentate  in  graciousness,  the  least  an 
American  guest  can  do,  we  are  told,  is  to  write 
host  or  hostess  a  *' bread-and-butter  letter.'*  In 
fact  not  to  do  so  would  be  extremely  rude,  a  re- 
missness not  easily  overlooked  by  a  hostess.  A 
hostess  expects  to  receive  this  letter  a  day  or  two 
after  her  guest  has  reached  home.  The  letter 
should  "express  in  a  few  graceful  words  her  thanks 
for  the  pleasure  experienced  and  assure  her  hostess 
of  her  safe  arrival."^**  I  transcribe  the  following 
*' bread-and-butter"  letter  as  sufficiently  charac- 
teristic: 

My  dear  Mrs. : 


I  shall  not  let  another  moment  pass  without 
telling  you  how  much  I  enjoyed  my  visit  to  you, 
and  how  truly  I  appreciate  all  that  you  did  to 
make  my  visit  a  delightful  one.  I  shall  keep  in 
mind  charming  thoughts  of  the  drives,  walks,  and 
happy  days  and  evenings  at  Chestnut  Hill. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  Mr.  and 

believe  me 

Yours  sincerely, 

3x 


Hcspitalityt   TKe  Host  43 

In  circles  where  flexibility  of  expression  if  not  of 
mind  is  more  marked  than  at  Chestnut  Hill,  the 
bread-and-butter  letter  admits,  I  am  aware,  of 
considerable  variation.  Not  long  ago  I  saw  one 
written  by  a  Harvard  graduate  who,  like  all  the 
graduates  of  his  period,  had  had  the  advantage 
of  being  brought  up  on  *' Alice."  His  letter  was 
of  one  Hne  and  read:  "It  was  the  Best  Butter." 

Having  surveyed  the  practice  of  hospitality 
along  the  lines  of  those  who  follow  its  rules  and 
even  of  those  who  codify  them,  let  us  now  define 
it  from  our  general  point  of  view.  It  appears  to  >^ 
be  a  systematic  attempt  to  overcome  the  suspicions 
and  apprehensions  always  excited  by  the  stranger. 
Its  duties  and  obligations,  its  graces,  together 
form  a  system  for  rendering  him  innocuous.  He 
knows  that  as  a  guest  it  behooves  him  by  his 
conformity  and  compliance  to  allay  distrust  or 
fear.  A  mannerly  guest  will  be  considerate  of  his 
host  and  lend  himself  to  the  devices  taken  to  dis- 
arm him,  devices  sometimes  of  quarantine,  some- 
times of  propitiation. 


AND  DISINFECTANT  RITES 

A  HOST  is  usually  more  or  less  responsible  for 
''^  his  guest,  whether  he  is  his  sponsor  in  the 
law  courts  as  he  was  among  the  Romans,  or  takes- 
his  side  in  a  quarrel  as  among  the  Akiktiyu,'  or 
as  among  us  puts  him  up  at  the  club  or  merely 
invites  people  to  meet  him  at  home.  In  England 
the  mere  presence  of  a  guest  is  his  guaranty. 
But  in  the  United  States,  except  in  comparatively 
small  circles,  a  guest  requires  an  introduction.  I 
have  known  persons  sitting  next  to  each  other  at 
a  "dinner-party"  unwilling  to  speak  to  each  other 
until  introduced  by  an  acquaintance,  one  who 
had  himself  only  been  introduced  perhaps  before 

*  This  subject  I  have  considered  important  enough  for  a  separate 
discussion,  not  only  because  of  the  example  set  me  in  this  respect 
in  all  proper  books  on  les  convenances,  but  because  the  custom  of 
introducing  discovers  the  anxieties  and  timidities  incident  to 
enlarging  one's  circle  of  acquaintances  as  well  as  the  precautions 
taken  by  society  when  it  lets  down  barriers  to  raise  up  others. 
And  I  have  been  at  the  greater  pains  to  particularize  because 
many  of  the  observances  I  mention  are  fast  becoming  obsolete. 


Introdvictions  45 

going  in  to  dinner.  Sir  Thomas  Mitchell  relates 
that  once  in  Australia  on  encountering  a  strange 
native  he  asked  his  own  native  retainer  to  put  a 
question  to  him.  But  neither  Blackfellow  would 
speak  for  awhile  to  the  other.  They  stood  apart, 
neither  looking  at  the  other,  and  only  after  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so  would  they  enter  into 
conversation.^  In  the  absence  of  an  introduction 
an  awkward  pause  of  this  kind  is  in  fact  usual  in 
every  primitive  society.  About  to  meet,  certain 
American  Indian  tribesmen  would  stop  within 
twenty  yards  or  so  of  each  other,  writes  one  of 
their  observers,  and  sit  or  lie  down  for  some  min- 
utes without  speaking.  3  Except  of  necessity  an 
Ainu,  it  is  said,  is  never  the  first  to  speak  to  a 
stranger.  4  The  other  day  the  King  of  Spain  was 
precluded  by  native  etiquette  from  speaking  to  an 
ex-President  of  the  United  States  who  was  travel- 
ling in  the  same  train  because  the  American  had 
not  yet  been  presented  at  court  by  his  ambassa- 
dor.* Royalty  is  ever  conservative. 
An  introduction  is  a  short  cut  to  conversation. 


*In  America  the  King  might  have  been  advised  that  "an  ac- 
quaintance of  either  sex  formed  in  travelling  need  never  be  retained 
afterward,  though  sometimes  valuable  and  valued  friends  are 
thus  secured."  (Duffey,  Mrs.  E.  B.  The  Ladies  and  GenUeme^i's 
Etiquette:  A  Complete  Manual  of  the  Manners  and  Dress  of  American 
Society f  p.  95,     Philadelphia,  1887.) 


46  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

It  inspires  confidence.*  In  more  ways  than  one 
it  is  a  voucher  for  the  stranger.  First  there  are 
the  effects  of  naming.  In  primitive  culture  a 
man's  name  is  an  integral  part  of  his  personality. 
Knowledge  of  it,  he  believes,  gives  you  power  over 
him.  Hence  he  often  keeps  his  name  a  secret. 
In  civilization  too  people  sometimes  refuse  to  be 
introduced,  and  in  punctilious  circles  permission 
to  make  an  introduction  is  usually  sought. 

Some  name  to  go  by  one  must  have,  however, 
and  so  a  savage,  no  matter  how  secretive,  finds  it 
convenient  to  have  a  public  as  well  as  a  secret 
name.  Nor  among  us  on  making  introductions  is 
the  Christian  name  or  pet  name  or  nickname  used 
— even  by  an  *'old  friend"  or  in  certain  circles 
by  a  member  of  the  family.  "There  is  nothing  so 
awkward  to  a  stranger  as  to  be  introduced  to  '  My 
brother  Tom*  or  *My  sister  Carrie.'"^  I  have 
heard  mothers  introduce  their  daughter  as  Miss 
So-and-So  and  in  the  United  States  husband  and 
wife  invariably  introduce  each  other  by  their 
surname.  Not  to  do  so,  it  is  felt,  would  be  "un- 
dignified" or  "lacking  in  respect,"  the  terms  we 
commonly  use  to  express  taboo. 


*Por  we  recall  that  "most  friendships  which  have  a  legitimate 
beginning  come  through  an  acquaintanceship  which  opens  by 
means  of  an  introduction."     {lb.,  p.  21.) 


Introdxictions  47 

In  several  other  particulars  of  good  form  in 
introducing  the  originally  grave  meaning  of  nam- 
ing may  be  surmised.  The  order  of  naming,  we 
may  notice,  is  important.  The  less  distinguished 
or  the  one  to  be  less  complimented  is  named  fir^t, 
the  younger,  the  immarried,  the  less  notorious, 
the  native,  the  man  to  the  woman.  Theirs  must 
be  the  disadvantage,  brief  though  it  be,  of  having 
one*s  own  name  known  to  the  other  person  with- 
out knowing  his  name  or  hers.  But  the  disadvan- 
tage, it  is  generally  felt,  is  not  to  be  incurred 
unnecessarily.  Told  to  speak  the  names  of  those 
he  introduces  "as  low  as  possible  .  .  .  that  all 
the  world  may  not  hear  them,  "^  it  sometimes  hap- 
pens that  the  introducer  slurs  over  the  name.  He 
may  feel  that  it  is  an  awkward  moment  to  be 
over  with  as  quickly  as  possible — a  sense  of  em- 
barrassment of  itself  significant  of  the  importance 
attached  to  introducing.  Under  these  circum- 
stances one  of  the  two  strangers  is  likely  to  say: 
*'I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  didn't  catch  your 
name.  * 

Although  to  forget  a  man's  name  is  felt  to  create 
a  very  awkward  situation,  yet  it  is  a  common 
practice  to  open  a  conversation  with,  "You  don't 

*0r,  "Pardon  me,  but  I  failed  to  hear  your  name."  {The 
Complete  Hostess,  p.  320.) 


48  Fear  and  Conventionality 

remember  my  name."  It  is  a  challenge  which 
undoubtedly  puts  the  other  person  at  a  disad- 
vantage, a  disadvantage  he  is  apt  to  admit  and 
to  attempt  to  overcome  by  answering,  "Oh  yes, 
I  do,"  whether  he  recalls  the  name  or  not.  His 
parry  is  feeble,  for  by  a  mere  admission  of  forget- 
fulness  would  he  not  put  his  opponent  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  having  to  tell  his  name?  Telling 
your  name  is  generally  an  "embarrassment,"  if 
not  as  among  the  Arabs  a  risk,*  and  most  of  us 
would  sympathize  with  that  Sir  Frederick  of 
Urbino  who  confessed  to  the  assembled  court  that 
it  troubled  him  to  be  asked  who  he  was  and  what 
was  his  name.  ^ 

To  directly  ask  a  person  his  name  is  almost 
everywhere,  we  may  notice,  a  rudeness,  one  seldom 
perpetrated  except  upon  the  very  young.f  But 
an  introducer  failing,  the  magnanimous  or,  among 
the  Hindus,  the  respectful}  will  volunteer  their 

*An  Arab  child  is  taught  to  conceal  his  family  name  from 
strangers  lest  he  fall  a  victim  to  an  intertribal  blood  feud.  Nor 
does  any  Arab  ever  mention  his  family  name  to  a  stranger,  what- 
ever his  tribe.     (Burckhardt,  p.  56.) 

t  Asking  a  child  his  age  is  one  of  the  commonest  ways  in  which 
an  adult  expresses  his  sense  of  superiority.  A  "natural"  child 
will  usually  ignore  the  question. 

t  "A  Brahmana  who  greets  an  elder  must  pronounce  his  name, 
saying,  'I  am  N.  N.'  .  .  .  To  his  maternal  and  paternal  uncles, 
fathers-in-law,  officiating  priests,  and  other  venerable  persons, 
he  must  say,  *I  am  N.  N.'  .  .  .  even  though  they  be  younger 


Introd\2ctioxis  49 

name,  feeling  it  an  essential  preliminary  to  con- 
versation. "My  name  is  Smith,"  you  graciously 
say;  ''Mine  is  Jones,"  says  he.  Without  such 
an  expression  of  mutual  confidence,  one  of  the 
two  ** chance  acquaintances,"  particularly  a  lady, 
is  quite  liable  to  say  in  an  emergency:  "But  I 
don't  know  you.  I  don't  even  know  your 
name."  Often  after  two  persons  have  talked 
together  without  an  introduction,  and  a  mu- 
tual acquaintance  arrives  on  the  scene,  an  in- 
troduction is  offered  or  even  called  for — a  very 
striking  instance  of  the  significance  attached  to 
the  ceremony.  In  closing  a  conversation  in  order 
to  give  it  retrospectively  a  more  satisfactory 
character,  strangers  will  often  tell  each  other 
their  name,  sometimes  exchanging  visiting-cards.* 

than  himself "  [and  apparently  even  though  they  already  know 
his  name  quite  well].  ( The  Laws  of  Manu,  ii,  122, 130.  The  Sacred 
Books  of  the  Eastf  xxv.) 

*  Considerable  importance  attaches  to  the  form  of  visiting- 
cards.  With  us  they  are  invariably  of  white  unglazed  pasteboard 
engraved  in  black.  "Plain  script  is  never  out  of  order,  though 
other  styles  of  engraving  come  and  go."  (The  Complete  Hostess, 
p.  306.)  The  fashionable  size  and  shape  vary,  but  a  man's  card 
is  always  smaller  and  narrower  than  a  woman's.  {lb.,  pp.  306, 
309.)  Chinese  cards  are  printed  in  black  on  vermilion  paper — 
except  in  mourning,  when  the  paper  is  white  with  the  name  in 
blue.  (Colquhoun, A. R.  Across ChrysS,i,ig.  London,  1883.)  The 
formulas  on  Chinese  visiting-cards  are  somewhat  more  ornate 
too  than  ours.  They  contain  not  only  the  name  of  the  visitor 
but  an  address  of  respect  to  the  host.  For  example,  "The 
tender  and  sincere  friend  of  your  Lordship,  and  the  perpetual 
4 


50  Fear  and  Conventionality 

To  many  travellers  a  well-filled  card-case  is  an 
indispensable  part  of  their  equipment. 

Part  of  the  idea  in  the  exchange  of  visiting- 
cards  by  travellers  may  of  course  be  utilitarian, 
based  on  a  wish  to  continue  an  acquaintance.* 
There  is  too,  in  starting  a  conversation  with  a 
name,  a  practical  feature.  It  may  help  to  * '  place  ** 
a  person.  The  edge  is  taken  off  a  stranger,  so 
to  speak,  if  you  know  where  he  comes  from  or 
anything  about  his  family  or  his  own  history.  A 
Queensland  Blackfellow  who,  away  from  home, 
does  not  tell  the  people  he  meets  his  name,  who  his 
father  is,  or  where  his  mother  comes  from,  is  almost 
sure  to  be  killed.^  "What  is  your  bird?"  i.  e, 
totem,  is  one  of  the  first  questions  commonly  put 
to  a  stranger  by  the  Massim  of  New  Guinea.' 
"What  is  the  form  of  marriage  of  your  people?*' 
*'Do  you  believe   in  anarchy?"     "How  old  are 

disciple  of  your  doctrine,  presents  himself  in  this  quality  to  pay 
his  duty  and  make  his  reverence  even  to  the  earth."  (Astley, 
iv,  80.) 

*  This  can  hardly  be  the  reason  for  certain  uses  visiting-cards 
are  put  to,  why,  f  c  ■  example,  Juliet's  tomb  at  Verona  is  always  filled 
with  the  visiting-cards  of  tourists,  or  why  on  the  grave  of  a  genius 
one  sometimes  sees  a  visiting-card,  or  why  as  we  once  drove 
through  the  streets  of  Tokyo  as  guests  of  the  nation  our  car- 
riages were  filled  with  visiting-cards  by  the  Japanese  who  packed 
the  avenue  to  the  railway-station.  In  such  instances  a  visiting- 
card  would  seem  to  gratify  a  wish  analogous  to  the  wish  to  write 
your  name  in  a  notorious  place,  a  wish,  I  take  it,  like  the  wishes 
prompting  other  forms  of  introduction,  of  participation. 


Introductions  51 

you?"  are  questions  put  to  the  stranger  at  the 
ports  of  the  United  States.  Obviously,  once  class- 
ified, once  related  to  familiar  facts,  the  stranger 
anywhere  is  less  unfamiliar  and  alarming.  An 
introduction  is  soothing,  tranquillizing.  Even  a 
public  assemblage  likes  to  have  introduced  to  it 
its  speakers,  and  a  public  speaker  himself  is  quite 
willing  to  submit  to  the  slight  embarrassment  of 
being  introduced,  knowing  the  easing  and  thereby 
disarming  effect  of  it  upon  his  audience.* 

But  the  chief  immimity-giving  character  of  an 
introduction  lies  in  the  introducer  himself.  He 
vouches  for  the  man  he  introduces.  His  sense  of 
responsibility  varies  of  course  and  the  degree  to 
which  he  is  held  responsible.  As  a  rule  he  cannot 
be  too  careful.  He  has  a  number  of  rules  to 
guide  him.  He  must  not  introduce  a  gentleman 
to  a  lady  without  first  asking  her  permission,  a 
permission  not  to  be  refused,  however,  without 
**very  good  and  strong  reasons." ^°  A  gentleman 
does  not  introduce  one  lady  to  another  and  even 
a  lady  should  be  careful  about  introducing  two 
women  living  in  the  same  place."     Gentlemen 

*The  presiding  officer  who  is  called  upon  to  introduce  a  celebrity 
is  also  aware  of  the  propitiatory  nature  of  the  introduction.  Feel- 
ing that  it  is  indispensable,  but  at  the  same  time  struck  by  the 
superficial  absurdity  of  it,  he  compromises  with  some  such  for- 
mula as,  "I  don't  need  to  introduce  to  you,  etc." 


52  Fear  and  Conventionality 

do  not  ask  for  an  introduction  to  each  other,  nor 
should  they  be  introduced  to  each  other  at  a  club, 
in  the  street,  or,  some  think,  even  in  a  drawing- 
room.  Is  this  rule  held  to  because,  as  one  writer 
on  etiquette  says,  "gentlemen  do  not  generally 
wish  to  become  acquainted,*' ^^  or  because  less 
timorous  than  the  ladies  they  do  not  feel  the  need 
of  protecting  themselves  with  an  introduction?* 

There  are  certain  times  and  places  too  where 
one  is  cautioned  not  to  be  hasty  in  introducing — 
at  the  theatre,  for  example,  in  travelling,  in  the 
street.  "If  one  gentleman  joined  me  in  the  street 
while  I  was  walking  with  another,  I  should  cer- 
/tainly  not  introduce  the  former  to  the  latter," 
writes  the  author  of  Social  Customs ^^^  "because," 
she  adds,  "he  would  have  no  business  to  join  me 
unless  he  knew  the  gentleman  with  whom  I  was 
walking."!  Introductions  made  on  the  street, 
under  ordinary  circumstances  at  least,  are  not  at 
any  rate  consequential.  None  needs  to  "be 
bound  by  a  casual  introduction  of  this  sort  given 
as  a  matter  of  form,  and  where  no  real  acquain- 
tanceship! has  been  made  between  the  parties."'^ 

*  Such  would  appear  to  be  the  view  of  another  writer  on  eti- 
quette who  says  that  men  "are  supposed  to  be  at  liberty  to  speak 
to  each  other  in  society  without  formal  presentation. ' '  (Learned, 
p.  96.) 

fls  this  taboo  a  trifling  by-product  of  male  proprietorship? 

J  From  the  point  of  view  of  making  an  acquaintance  a  ball- 


Introductions  53 

Introductions  may,  as  we  know,  be  written. 
Perhaps  because  of  the  impressiveness  character- 
istic of  writing,  a  written  introduction  is  more 
weighty  than  an  oral  introduction  and  its  author 
incurs  greater  responsibihty.  "It  is  rash  to  give 
letters  unless  to  people  whom  one  knows  well,*  or 
at  least  knows  all  about." '^  Of  course  one  can- 
not set  forth  all  this  knowledge  in  the  letter  of 
introduction — if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it 
is  left  unsealed  or  should  be;  but  as  in  the  oral 
introduction,  some  clue  to  the  person  introduced 
should  be  given.  Passports f  or  international 
letters  of  introduction  give  such  information  in 
considerable  detail,  even  to  the  colour  of  the  eyes. 

Public  or  private  letters  of  introduction  and 
their  precursors  before  the  art  of  writing,  rings, 
seals,  scarfs,  message  sticks,  etc.,  imply  a  com- 
mon acquaintance.  Under  circumstances  where 
common  acquaintances  are  not  available,  where 
there  is  none  to  assume  responsibility  for  the 

room  seems  to  be  classified,  at  times,  with  a  street.  "In  England 
an  introduction  given  for  dancing  purposes  does  not  constitute 
acquaintanceship."  (Ward,  p.  218.)  But  there  appear  to  be 
circles  in  this  country  too  where  "a  ball-room  acquaintance 
does  not  extend  beyond  the  evening  in  which  it  is  formed." 
(Duffey,  p.  79.) 

*"It  is  especially  rash  to  give  letters  to  foreigners,"  adds  our 
authority. 

t " Body-protecting  charms"  they  were  once  called  in  China. 
(Colquhoun,  Across  Chrysi,  i,  95.) 


54  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

stranger,  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  disinfect  him 
— once  you  decide  to  admit  him — or  to  admit  him 
with  precautions.  A  Victorian  tribe  approaching 
another  unknown  to  it  carry  burning  sticks  to 
purify,  they  say,  the  air. ' ^  When  Captain  Moresby 
landed  on  New  Guinea,  a  medicine-man  exorcised 
the  evil  spirit  in  him  by  magical  jugglery  with 
palm  leaves  and  by  playing  a  kind  of  leapfrog.'^ 
At  Ushuri,  one  of  the  villages  of  the  Soudan,  when 
visitors  are  at  the  gate  they  are  asked  to  step 
over  a  live  fowl  held  over  the  threshold.  The 
fowl  is  then  killed,  and  all  "to  bring  good  luck."'^ 
In  Benin  the  feet  of  strangers  were  ceremonially 
washed,*  and  sentinels  at  the  gates  of  Yoruba 
towns  often  oblige  European  travellers  to  wait  till 
nightfall  before  admitting  them,  fearing  that  in 
the  daytime  the  devil  would  tag  on  behind  them. ' ' 
The  descendants  of  the  Yorubans  in  Hayti,  I 
once  learned  to  my  cost,  allow  no  strange  craft 
to  cast  anchor  in  their  harbours  after  sundown. 

*Frazer,  p.  io8.  Frazer  seems  to  hold  that  the  stranger  is 
disliked  because  he  is  suspected  of  magic.  Is  he  not  rather 
suspected  of  magic  because  he  is  disliked?  You  dislike  him 
because  he  discomfits  you  and  so  you  "spot"  magic,  magic,  if 
you  are  a  savage,  being  your  usual  explanation  of  discomfiture. 


VI 


CASTE 


\  A/ITH  the  utmost  precaution  introductions 
^  '  are  not  always  in  order.  You  do  not 
introduce  your  butler  to  your  guest,  nor  are  shop 
girls  presented  at  the  court  of  St.  James.  Royalty 
is  at  any  rate  apt  to  be  confined  to  a  limited  circle 
of  acquaintances.  The  Emperor  of  China  seldom 
left  his  palace.  When  he  did  go  out,  none  looked 
at  him*;  even  the  guards  who  lined  his  route 
turned  their  backs.  The  Kings  of  Corea  did  not 
leave  their  palaces  at  all.  The  King  of  Fernando 
Po  lives  in  a  crater  into  which  no  White  Man  may 
ever  descend.  The  ruler  of  the  Baduwis  of  Java 
never  quits  his  capital  and  subjects  who  live  out- 
side of  it  may  not  see  him. '  People  from  all  over 
the  United  States  may  at  stated  times  enter  the 

*  A  cat  may  not  everywhere  look  at  a  king,  nor  does  a  person 
of  position  always  look  at  a  person  of  none.  I  was  once  a 
party  to  a  practical  joke,  the  point  of  which  was  to  see  whether 
a  certain  lady  would  recognize  her  own  son  were  he  to  attend 
us,  her  guests,  as  a  valet.  She  did  not,  as  she  never  looked  at 
his  face. 

55 


56  Fear  and  Conventionality 

White  House  to  see  the  President  and  even  shake 
hands  with  him,  but  it  would  be  impossible  for  a 
President  to  live  in  Washington  outside  of  the 
White  House,  no  President  has  ever  left  the 
country  during  his  term  of  office,*  and  many 
Americans  consider  it  "undignified'*  for  a  Presi- 
dent to  travel  much  even  within  its  boundaries. 

Even  when  royalties  are  more  migratory,  they 
do  not  mix  much  with  the  world.  To  see  the 
King  of  Dahomi  or  the  Muata  Jamwo  of  the 
Congo  at  their  meals  is  a  capital  offence.  When 
the  King  of  Cazembe  raised  his  glass  to  drink 
or  when  the  King  of  Tonga  ate,  all  present  pro- 
strated themselves,  looking  away,  or  all  turned 
their  backs.*  The  King  of  the  Awemba  has 
probably  always  to  eat  at  home  for  only  flour 
prepared  by  his  wives  may  be  served  to  him.^ 
In  Washington  the  President  of  the  United  States 
dines  out  openly  only  with  the  members  of  his 
cabinet.  He  is  free,  however,  to  invite  people — 
all  kinds  of  people  saving  negroes  and  anarchists 
— to  dine  with  him  at  the  White  House. 

When  the  King  of  Persia  gave  dinner  parties 
he  himself  sat  at  a  separate  table  in  a  separate 

*  Were  he  to  cross  the  boundary,  I  suspect  the  outcry  would 
equal  that  of  Islam  when  Sultan  Abdul  Aziz  made  his  unprece- 
dented visits  to  Queen  Victoria,  Napoleon  III,  and  the  Emperor 
of  Austria. 


Cast< 


57 


room  where  he  could  see  his  guests,  unseen  by 
them.-*  Many  another  ruler  has  had  to  eat 
entirely  in  private  without  the  sight  of  a  guest 
or  even  a  wife  for  company.  In  other  particulars 
the  ways  of  royalty  may  also  have  to  be  screened 
from  the  public.  At  several  courts  it  does  not 
do  for  the  sovereign  merely  to  raise  his  hand  to  his 
mouth  when  he  sneezes,  a  cloth  has  to  be  held  up 
by  a  courtier  in  front  of  his  face.  Not  only  when 
he  sneezed  but  when  he  coughed,  spat,  or  took 
snuff,  a  cloth  was  similarly  held  up  before  the 
face  of  the  King  of  Jebu,  a  Slave  Coast  king. 
The  Sultan  of  Wadai  always  speaks  from  behind 
a  curtain.  5  Graham  Bell  has  told  me  that  in  an 
audience  he  once  had  with  Queen  Victoria  to  tell 
her  about  the  new  telephone,  she  asked  him  ques- 
tions through  a  third  person,  keeping  him  at  a 
distance  quite  as  effectually  as  if  she  were  talking 
over  his  telephone.*  When  King  Mutesa  was 
being  physically  examined  by  Dr.  Felkin,  all  the 
courtiers  in  attendance  had  to  turn  away,  ^  and  it 
is  customary  in  Uganda  to  call  a  King's  illness, 
whatever  it  may  be,  senyiga^  a  severe  cold^ — a 
device  not  unparalleled  in  European  courts.     In 

♦The  rulers  of  Uganda  and  Dahomi  also  communicated 
through  a  third  person.  (Spencer,  Herbert.  The  Principles  of 
Sociology,  ii,  28-9.     New  York,  1900.) 


58  Fear  and  Conventionality 

the  court  of  Edward  IV  even  the  Queen's  laun- 
dresses had  "to  bee  swome  to  keepe  the  chambre 
counsaylle."^ 

The  seclusive  habits  of  royalty  are  peculiarly 
conspicuous,  but  throughout  society  there  are  many 
other  seclusive  or  exclusive  groups.  Imitation 
being  the  truest  flattery  as  well  as  an  instinct, 
court  circles  are  naturally  exclusive.  The  courtier 
of  Urbino  is  advised  "not  to  renn,  wrastle,  leape, 
nor  cast  the  stone  or  barr  with  men  of  the  Coun- 
trey,  except  to  be  sure  to  gete  the  victorie — ^f or  it  is 
to  ill  a  sight  and  to  foule  a  matter  and  with- 
out estimation  to  see  a  Gentilman  overcome  by 
a  Cartar  and  especially  in  wrastling."  Even 
"dancing  in  the  Sun"  with  the  country  people 
is  open  to  the  question  at  the  court  of  Urbino  of 
"what  a  man  shal  gaine  by  it.'*^  I  once  heard 
one  of  our  ambassadors  to  Berlin  sharply  criticized 
because  his  wife  not  only  did  her  own  marketing 
but  went  to  market  on  a  bicycle;  and  a  Washington 
observer  has  lately  told  us  that  the  present  Secre- 
tary of  the  Interior  is  being  criticized  for  riding 
on  trolley  cars  and  standing  on  the  rear  platform 
at  that — "that  doesn^t  go  in  Washington." 

Familiarities  between  persons  of  different  social 
position  are  discountenanced  elsewhere.  "Fancy 
the  moral  condition  of  that  society  in  which  a 


Caste  59 

lady  of  fashion  joked  with  a  footman,"  exclaimed 
Thackeray,  horror  struck  by  the  ways  of  his  people 
in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne.  No  Ashantee  of  con- 
sequence drinks  before  his  inferiors  without  hiding 
his  face  from  them.*  A  New  Zealand  slave  does 
not  eat  of  his  master's  food  nor  cook  at  the  same 
fire.^° 

"Vche  Exstate  syngulerly  in  halle  shalle  sit  adowne 
That  none  of  hem  se  othure  at  mete  tyme  in  feld  nor 
in  town."" 

And  the  English  upper  servant  still  refuses  to 
eat  with  the  other  servants.  There  are  houses 
too  in  New  England  where  the  choreman  is  no 
longer  expected  to  eat  with  the  family.  Nor  may 
inferiors  and  superiors  in  the  Tonga  Islands  eat 
together.'*  Most  Hindus  would  not  eat  with 
persons  of  another  caste.  Many  other  caste 
separations  occur  in  India.  A  Puliah  has  to  keep 
a  distance  of  one  hundred  paces  away  from  per- 
sons of  other  castes.  A  Pariah  may  put  only  one 
foot  inside  the  house  of  his  master,  and  through 
a  village  street  lived  in  by  Brahmans  he  may  not 
even  pass.  Nor,  firmly  believing  that  it  would 
lead  to  ruin,  will  he  let  a  Brahman  pass  through 
his  own  quarter.'^     No  labourer  in  his  working 

*  Were  he  to  drink  more  publicly,  would  he  be  charged,  I 
wonder,  with  playing  to  the  gallery? 


6o  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

clothes  would  walk  down  Fifth  Avenue  with  i 
"lady."  "I'd  like  to  show  you  the  town,"  sai( 
my  Wyoming  driver  to  me  an  afternoon  I  spen 
in  Cody,  "though  I'm  not  used  to  walking  witl 
a  lady."* 

"I  won't  get  drunk  anyhow,"  he  added.  Am 
as  we  walked  down  the  street  where  acquaintance 
grinned  at  him  from  the  door  of  every  saloon,  ; 
appreciated  the  assurance.  Being  a  gentleman 
whatever  he  called  himself,  it  was  natural  for  hin 
to  wish  to  reassure  me,  once  he  had  put  me  into  i 
caste  not  his  own.  Apprehensiveness,  he  was  wel 
aware,  is  felt  by  a  member  of  one  caste  concerning 
a  member  of  another.  An  English  booby  "i 
>*  frightened  out  of  his  wits  when  people  of  fashioi 
speak  to  him,"  writes  Lord  Chesterfield.'*  Con 
tact  with  royalty  or  with  royal  things  is  oftei 
accounted  dangerous.  The  Nubas  of  Eas 
Africa  believed  they  would  die  if  they  enterec 
the  house  of  their  priestly  king  of  sat  on  th< 
stone  he  used  for  a  seat.  A  Cazemba  of  Angok 
believes  that  he  who  touches  the  King  dies  unles; 

*  Nevertheless,  fortunately  for  me,  it  had  not  occurred  to  hie 
that  civilities  "ought  not  to  be  extended  to  persons  who  belon; 
to  either  a  higher  or  a  lower  class  of  society. "  The  former,  add 
Mrs.  Ward,  are  "warranted  in  looking  upon  you  as  pushing;  th 
latter  are  apt  to  consider  you  as  patronizing."  (Sensible  EH 
quelle,  p.  394.     Philadelphia,  1878.) 


Caste  6i 

he  is  thoroughly  disinfected.  The  garments  of  a 
New  Zealand  chief,  it  is  held,  will  kill  anyone 
wearing  them.  The  lost  tinder-box  of  one  of 
these  Maori  chiefs  was  indeed  once  the  means  of 
killing  several  persons.  The  men  who  found  it 
and  imwittingly  used  it  to  light  their  pipes  died 
of  fright  on  learning  to  whom  it  belonged. '* 
"How  many  men  have  I  seen,*'  writes  Lord 
Chesterfield,  "when  they  have  been  presented  to 
the  King  did  not  know  whether  they  stood  on 
their  heads  or  their  heels!  When  the  King  spoke 
to  them  they  trembled."'^  Stand  near  the 
"receiving  party'*  at  a  public  reception  at  the 
White  House  and  you  cannot  fail  to  notice  in  many 
of  the  guests  a  more  or  less  painful  constraint, 
not  to  say  timidity,  as  they  approach  to  shake 
hands  with  the  President.  A  President  recently 
declared  in  receiving  a  woman  suffrage  delegation 
that  he  felt  bound  not  to  expose  the  public  to  his 
private  opinions. 

Seclusiveness  of  itself  inspires  apprehension, 
making  of  the  secluded  a  stranger,  and  strangers, 
we  know,  are  ever  under  suspicion.  They  are 
always  suspected  of  having  ways  different  from 
our  own  and  so  disquieting.  In  many  cases  of 
caste  seclusiveness  suspicion  becomes  certainty; 
the  seclusive  caste  is  known  to  have  its  own  pecu- 


62  Fear  and  Conventionality 

liar  ways.  ^  Once  realized,  whatever  their  origins, 
caste  characteristics  tend  to  become  arbitrary  oi 
compulsory.  Rarely  does  anyone  want  his  caste 
habits  interfered  with  or  imitated.  Rarely  does 
anyone  want  to  interfere  with  or  imitate  the  caste 
habits  of  others.  Each  caste  wants  its  members 
to  conform  to  its  regulations  and  the  members 
of  other  castes  to  conform  to  theirs.  Hence  caste 
distinctions  are  enforced  by  taboos  or  laws,  by  an 
endless  miscellany  of  restrictions.  For  example, 
kings,  unlike  commoners,  may  not  go  a-courting. 
Sometimes  they  are  not  allowed  to  marry  at  all. 
Sometimes  they  may  marry  only  women  with 
peculiar  characteristics  or  of  a  given  lineage.  Ie 
Aracan,  India,  for  the  girls  selected  every  year  as 
the  most  eligible  for  the  King's  harem,  odour  was 
the  criterion. '  ^  In  ancient  Egypt  and  in  the  Peru 
of  the  Incas  the  rulers  had  to  marry  their  owr 
sisters.  Once  the  King  of  Loango  is  crowned,  th€ 
one  wife  allowed  him  must  be  a  Cabinda  princess.  *' 
Recently  the  British  government  jailed  a  man  foi 
saying  that  the  King  had  made  an  ordinary 
marriage.  More  recently  a  German  princess  u 
said  to  have  killed  herself  because  she  was  not 
allowed  to  make  one.  In  other  particulars,  too 
royal  habits  are  strictly  regulated.  A  king  ma> 
be  limited  in  his  choice  of  colour.     The  Sumatrac 


Caste  63 

Sultan  of  Menancabow  had  constantly  to  wear 
yellow.^'  Black  may  not  be  worn  ordinarily  in 
the  court  of  Japan.  Kukulu,  a  divine  king  in 
West  Africa,  was  never  allowed  to  lie  down.* 
Among  the  Ewes  the  king  neither  ate  nor  slept,  "** 
at  least  it  was  criminal  not  to  think  so.  Mutesa 
of  Uganda  never  smoked,  although  outside  of  the 
court  every  man  and  woman  in  his  country  was  a 
steady  smoker.  ^^  The  President  of  the  United 
States  is  allowed  to  smoke,  but  I  doubt  if  smoking 
would  be  tolerated  in  his  wife,  for  she — and  he  too 
in  other  respects — is  expected  to  set  an  example 
to  the  people,  an  expectation  that  must  entail, 
if  lived  up  to,  a  number  of  peculiar  habits,  f 

Of  sumptuary  law  or  custom  we  may  cite  a  few 
instances.     Among  the  Sioux  only  medicine-men 

*  Lest  he  should  thereby  cause  the  wind  to  drop  unduly.  (Bas- 
tian,  A.,  Die  Deutsche  Expedition  an  der  Loango-Kiiste,  i,  288. 
Jena,  1874.) 

t  Whether  royalties  are  held  responsible  for  the  blowing  of  the 
winds  or  for  the  morals  of  their  people,  royal  taboos  are  obviously 
onerous.  No  wonder  that  rulers  have  sometimes  abdicated  or  that 
thrones  sometimes  stand  vacant.  Bastian  found  at  the  time  of  his 
visit  to  Angoy  that  the  throne  had  been  vacant  ten  years,  so 
exacting  were  the  Angoy  taboos  on  royalty.  {Expedition  an  der 
Loango-Kiiste,  i,  368.)  In  the  United  States  there  are  already 
many  high  offices  difficult  to  fill  and  some  day  the  highest  of 
them  may  go  begging,  the  task  of  being  the  public  preceptor 
par  excellence  having  become  intolerably  burdensome.  Even 
to-day  representing  the  President  abroad  entails  obligations  many 
men  have  been  unwilling  to  assume. 


64  Fear  and  Conventionality 

may  wear  a  necklace  of  bear's  claws  whenever 
they  like.  *^  For  a  time  in  Uganda  nobody  outside 
of  the  royal  family  was  allowed  to  wear  European 
cloth.  =*^  In  Corea  the  lower  classes  may  wear 
neither  silk  nor  purple.^''  Under  Philip  Augustus 
the  length  of  French  shoe  points  was  determined 
by  social  position,  ranging  from  six  to  twelve 
inches.  In  the  sixteenth  century  French  women 
were  jailed  by  scores  for  wearing  clothes  like  those 
of  their  superiors. ^^  "Even  in  a  Republican 
country  like  our  own,"  once  wrote  an  American 
woman,  "I  conceive  it  would  be  impracticable 
and  impolitic  ...  to  abolish  entirely*  .  .  .  the 
distinctions  ...  in  the  different  classes  of  society 
in  respect  to  dress."  ^^  In  the  United  States  and 
in  Uganda  the  upper  classes  and  only  the  upper 
classes  carry  a  walking-stick.  ^^  'Yhe  origin  of  it 
in  Uganda  I  do  not  know ;  with  us  we  always  hear 
that  it  is  a  relic  of  the  day  when  a  gentleman 
and  only  a  gentleman  carried  a  sword.     To-day 

*  Since  this  was  written  they  have  been  abolished — in  theory. 
And  yet  perhaps  the  older  theory  does  float  about  in  some 
backwaters.  "Your  cook  wouldn't  wear  that  dress,"  you  may 
be  told  by  a  senior  in  your  family  when  you  are  dressed  worse 
than  usual.  The  maid  who  dresses  like  her  mistress  is  still  a 
source  of  humour  on  the  stage.  An  editorial  in  The  Times  of 
June  10,  1914,  ridicules  a  workman  who  had  testified  that  his 
wages  were  not  ample  to  dress  on.  "What  next!"  exclaims  the 
editor.  "Won't  he  be  wanting  to  wear  evening  clothes  to  the 
play?" 


Oaste  65 

in  Uganda  only  gentlemen  are  allowed  to  cany 
copper  spears. 

Uganda  gentlemen  when  they  meet  offer  each 
other  coffee  berries — ^instead  of  cigarettes.  The 
offer  of  either  is  a  habit  peculiar  to  the  gentleman. 
In  the  United  States  cigarette  smoking  by 
women  is  a  habit  even  more  confined  to  the 
upper  class.  Only  "society  ladies"  are  supposed 
to  smoke.*  A  Brahman  who  drinks  arrack  loses 
caste.  *^  In  Fiji  the  common  people  were  not 
allowed  to  eat  human  flesh,  nor  in  San  Salvador 
to  drink  chocolate.^'  With  us  the  servant  who 
drinks  his  master's  champagne  or  eats  his  game 
not  only  wastes  his  master's  substance,  but  out- 
rages his  sense  of  caste  propriety. 

Games  as  well  as  weapons,  narcotics,  or  foods 
are  apt  to  be  a  caste  taboo  or,  according  to  your 
point  of  view,  a  caste  monopoly.  In  England  in 
the  sixteenth  century  playing  "at  the  Tables, 
Tennis,  Dice,  Cards,  Bowls,  Clash,  Coyting, 
Logating"  were  forbidden,  on  penalty  of  a  fine 
of  twenty  shillings,  to  artisans,  husbandmen, 
labourers,  servants,  sailors,  or  fishermen,  except  at 
Christmas,  and  even  at  Christmas  none  was  to 
play  in  his  master's  house  or  presence.  ^^    Are 

*In  many  respects  indeed  the  manners  of  these  ladies  are  said 
to  be  quite  different  from  those  not  "in  society. " 

5 


66  Fear  and  Conventionality 

there  not  to-day  Anglo-Saxon  masters  or  at  least 
mistresses  who  would  feel  outraged  or  at  least 
annoyed  to  see  their  servants  playing  on  the 
tennis  court  or  on  the  drawing-room  piano?  At 
any  rate  they  would  not  think  of  playing  duets 
with  them  or  challenging  them  to  a  set  of  tennis. 
Not  so  unscrupulously  would  they  offend  against 
the  old  maxim : 

"  Pley  thou  not  but  with  thy  pares.  "^^ 

Occupations  are  everywhere  an  affair  of  caste 
restrictions.  The  Wahuma  are  the  recognized 
herdsmen  of  Uganda,  and  it  would  be  even  more 
difficult  to  induce  a  Uganda  tribesman  to  tend 
cattle  ^^  than  in  the  United  States  to  get  a  white 
man  to  become  a  parlotir-car  porter  or  the  native- 
born  to  work  with  the  "Dago'*  in  the  ditch.  In 
India  the  great  fourfold  division  of  Hindu  society 
is  based  on  occupation,  on  the  business  of  being  a 
priest  or  a  king,  a  householder  or  a  menial,  and 
within  these  main  divisions  there  is  an  endless 
number  of  sub-castes  characterized  by  occupation 
— fishermen,  basket  weavers,  dancers,  blacksmiths, 
etc.  Manual  labour  or  labour  of  any  kind  is  in 
many  places  a  caste  privilege.  The  Niang-pariy 
the  two  classes  of  nobility  of  Corea,  the  civil  and 
military,  would  not  dream  of  working,  nor  would  it 


Caste  67 

be  allowed  them.  ^  3  There  was  a  time  in  England 
when  a  lord  might  have  found  it  impossible  to  get  a 
job  as  a  cashier,  let  us  say,  or  a  stoker,  and  there 
are  business  houses  in  this  country  averse  to  em- 
ploying youths  who  have  been  through  college 
or  whose  fathers  are  rich  men.  As  for  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  rich  or  of  any  claimant  of  social  posi- 
tion, they  are  generally  told  that  they  owe  it  to 
their  family  not  to  go  to  work.  "People  would 
say  I  can't  afford  to  support  you,"  exclaims  an 
indignant  and  remonstrant  parent.  Outside  of  the 
family  the  young  woman  is  told  she  ought  not  take 
the  bread  out  of  the  mouth  of  girls  having  to  earn 
their  living. 

The  "advantages"  of  education  are  very  com- 
monly a  caste  monopoly.  In  Greece  it  was  for- 
bidden to  teach  the  art  of  painting  to  servants 
and  slaves.  A  statute  of  Richard  II  decreed  that 
no  child  who  had  laboured  in  husbandry  until 
twelve  should  be  "put  to  any  Mystery  or  Handi- 
craft," nor,  according  to  a  statute  of  Henry  IV, 
should  the  son  or  daughter  of  any  person  whose  in- 
come was  not  at  the  least  twenty  shillings  a  year.  ^^ 
Modem  trade  unions  set  a  limit  to  the  number  of 
their  apprentices.  As  late  as  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century  in  one  English  village  the  squire 
would  allow  only  reading  to  be  taught  in  school;  in 


68  Fear  and  Conventionality 

another  village  arithmetic  was  taboo — "the  boys 
would  be  getting  to  know  too  much  about  wages."  ^^ 
The  schooling  of  peasants  is  discouraged  in  Russia. 
It  was  at  one  time  illegal  in  our  South  to  teach 
negroes  to  read  and  write.  To  teach  the  "  working 
classes"  anything  but  the  three  R's  is  sure  to  make 
them  dissatisfied,  we  are  told  by  critics  of  the 
curriculum  of  the  public  schools.  "It  only  unfits 
them  for  their  station  in  life. "  The  privilege  of  a 
college  education  is  still  more  or  less  dependent 
upon  the  parental  income,  and  quite  properly  so, 
said  to  me  only  last  year  a  president  of  one  of  our 
great  universities. 

Caste  is  observed  in  the  proprieties  of  address 
and  of  language.  Before  addressing  his  king  a 
Wemba  lies  on  his  back  and  claps  his  hands.  ^^ 
A  Fiji  Islander  crouches  down,  rubbing  the  upper 
part  of  the  left  arm  with  the  right  hand.^'  In 
Washington  none  may  sit  while  the  President 
stands.  Throughout  the  country  gentlemen  nod 
to  quite  a  number  of  classes  who  take  their  hats  off 
in  return.  A  gentleman  will  nod  too  to  persons  he 
passes  on  the  road  if  they  do  not  look  like  gentle- 
men. With  one  another  the  gentry  have  to  be 
more  formal — a,  bow  would  not  necessarily  be  an 
act  of  condescension.  It  might  indeed  be  a  piece 
of  presumption.     "It  is  not  the  correct  thing  to 


Caste  69 

bow  first  to  a  person  of  higher  social  position  and 
exclusive  views,  where  only  a  slight  acquaintance 
exists.  "3« 

In  Fiji  all  references  to  the  person  of  a  chief  or 
to  his  acts  are  sufficiently  hyperbolized  to  consti- 
tute a  chiefly  dialect.  ^^  In  Samoa  there  are  many 
terms  not  to  be  used  in  the  presence  of  a  chief,  at 
least  without  the  apologetic  phrase  vaeane,  "saving 
your  presence. ' '  There  are,  for  example,  '  *  polite '  * 
terms  for  "come,"  "sit,"  "eat,"  "die,"  "sick," 
"anger,"  "sleep,"  "the  chief's  house." ^^  Then, 
too,  in  Samoa  and  elsewhere,  if  the  name  of  any 
object  is  taken  by  the  chief  as  his  own,  the  object 
has  to  be  renamed,*  no  matter  how  common  a 
word  its  name  may  be.f  Every  caste  in  Japan 
has  its  own  peculiar  "  I, "  a  pronoun  no  other  caste 
may  use.'»^  Formerly  in  Germany  every  superior 
was  addressed  indirectly  as  er,  "he,"  just  as  to-day 


*  Analogous  renaming  occurs  in  connection  with  the  dead. 
This  taboo,  and  the  still  more  common  taboo  on  their  own  name 
are,  I  believe,  barriers  against  them.  If  such  name  taboos  were 
but  tokens  of  "respect,"  why  would  it  be  the  outrage  it  is 
usually  held  to  be,  or  at  any  rate  the  lack  of  tact,  for  the  outsider 
to  mention  the  name  of  the  deceased? 

t  Obviously  it  is  easy  enough  for  an  inconsiderate  chief  to  upset 
the  language.  We  may  deem  ourselves  fortunate  that  our  Presi- 
dent is  more  restricted  in  introducing  verbal  novelties  and  is 
even  criticized  for  expressing  ideas  on  modified  spelling.  Our 
use  of  titles  of  respect — Mister,  Captain,  Doctor,  etc. — is  a  more 
comfortable  caste  provision  too  than  grammatical  differentiations. 


70  Fear  and  Conventionality 

to  be  polite  the  Italian  addresses  you  in  the  third 
person  feminine.  Among  Anglo-Saxons  it  is  still 
considered  good  form  to  refer  to  yourself  in  writing 
to  inferiors  in  the  third  person — unless  you  are  a 
king  or  a  newspaper  editor,  when  the  first  person 
plural  is  proper.  Among  the  Abipones  of  the 
upper  class  the  names  of  men  end  in  m,  the  names 
of  women  in  en,  and  these  syllables  you  must  add 
to  noims  and  verbs  in  talking  to  them.  ''^  The  Abi- 
pone  nobles  moreover  use  words  quite  peculiar  to 
their  own  caste. '♦^  The  vocabulary  of  our  own 
upper  classes  is  materially  different  from  that  of 
our  lower,  and  many  words  or  phrases  are  taboo 
as  unbecoming  a  lady  or  a  gentleman.  No  person 
of  any  social  pretensions  can  afford  to  talk  like  a 
fishwife  or  a  groom.  Billingsgate  and  Cockney- 
isms  are  not  tolerated.  To  speak  correct  English 
is  a  passport  into  good  society.  To  be  treated  like 
a  gentleman  one  must  talk  like  one — even  to  the 
forgoing  of  puns  according  to  certain  authorities,* 
or  of  proverbs  according  to  Lord  Chesterfield. 
If  "you  should  let  off  a  proverb,  and  say,  That 
what  is  one  man*s  meat  is  another  man's  poison; 
or  else,  Everyone  as  they  like,  as  the  good  man  said 


*A  gentleman  never  condescends  to  be  a  punster,  says  Mrs. 
Abell.  {Woman  in  her  Various  Relations,  p.  121.  New  York, 
1853.     Cp.  Hall,  p.  244.) 


Caste  71 

when  he  kissed  his  cow, — everybody  would  be 
persuaded  that  you  had  never  kept  company  with 
anybody  above  footmen  and  housemaids,"  44 — 
unless  you  lived  in  Fiji  or  on  the  West  Coast  of 
Africa  or  in  many  another  tribal  society  where 
proverbs  and  adages  seem  to  be  in  vogue  even 
among  the  *' smartest"  people. 

At  these  caste  differences  of  speech,  as  in  fact  at 
all  the  other  caste  differences  I  have  mentioned, 
we  have  taken  but  the  most  cursory  glance.  The 
history  of  caste  is  unwritten;  analysis  of  political, 
economic,  and  cultural  classes  is  extremely  scant, 
even  description  of  them  as  they  exist  in  given 
groups  is  fragmentary  or  wholly  lacking.  In  this 
discussion  therefore  I  could  but  present  illustra- 
tions of  some  types  of  caste  barriers  and  of  certain 
caste  peculiarities  which  must  serve  of  themselves 
as  interclass  barriers,  and  of  the  existence  in  cer- 
tain cases  of  interclass  fear,  inferring  that  a  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect  exists  between  caste  barrier 
and  caste  fear,  the  barrier  being  raised  because  of 
fear,  and  once  raised  becoming  the  source  of  further 
apprehension. 


VII 

A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  CHIVALRY 

A  FTER  an  afternoon  spent  dancing  in  a  popular 
'**'  cabaret  a  certain  lady  of  high  society,  the 
story  comes  to  us  from  Paris,  looking  at  her  watch 
remarked  hastily  that  she  must  hurry  off.  She 
had  an  early  dinner.  *'I  too  must  be  going,  Ma- 
dame, I  too  have  an  early  dinner,*'  rejoined  her 
accomplished  partner.  And  lo,  that  evening  at 
dinner  Madame  perceived  that  her  new  acquaint- 
ance was  as  accomplished  in  serving  a  dinner  as 
in  dancing  the  tango.  In  Cody,  Wyoming,  our 
ways  were  still  more  "democratic."  We  danced 
of  an  evening  with  our  chambermaid  quite  well 
aware  of  her  role  by  day,  and  after  complimenting 
our  cook  upon  one  of  his  dishes,  we  engaged  in  an 
argument  with  him  which  was  settled  only  by  an 
appeal  to  the  dictionary.  Here  in  New  York, 
however,  there  is  less  of  such  fraternity  than  in 
Cody  or  in  Paris.  Your  Continental  cook  would  be 
amazed  if  you  asked  her  the  meaning  of  any  word 

72 


A  Postscript  on  CKivalry  73 

off  the  menu  and  she  would  undoubtedly  be  greatly 
embarrassed  if  you  even  asked  her  to  eat  with  you. 
Like  Sancho  Panza  under  similar  circumstances 
she  would  probably  decline  your  invitation.* 
Nor  would  she  like  you  to  give  up  yoiu:  seat  to  her 
in  the  street  car.  You  do,  of  course,  if  you  are 
truly  chivalrous.f 

In  chivalry  more  emphasis  has  ever  been  placed 
upon  the  inferiority  of  sex  than  upon  the  inferiority 
of  caste.  Knighthood  was  a  caste  like  any  other, 
with  many  of  the  typical  caste  marks,  a  matter  of 
birth,  education,  initiation,  equipment.  But  in 
chivalry,  its  code,  it  made  a  new  psychological 
contribution  to  caste  distinctions,  one  endowing 
it  with  imusual  endurance.  Borrowing  from  Chris- 
tianity, chivalry  emphasized  the  subjective  sense 
of  superiority  at  the  expense  of  the  objective. 
Whatever  outward  marks  of  caste  a  knight,  or  a 
gentleman  to  use  the  more  modem  term,  has  had 

*  "Gramercy  for  your  favour!"  cried  Sancho;  "but  I  may  tell 
your  worship  that,  provided  I  had  plenty  to  eat,  I  could  eat  it  as 
well,  and  better,  standing,  and  by  myself,  than  if  I  were  seated  on 
a  level  with  an  Emperor;  and,  indeed,  if  I  must  speak  the  truth, 
I  reUsh  much  more  what  I  eat  in  my  comer  without  niceties  or 
ceremonies."  {Don  Quixote,  pt.  i,  eh.  xi.)  "Kutte  nouhte 
youre  mete  eke  as  it  were  Felde  men"  (Fumivall,  p.  7.  About 
1475).  or,  as  we  say,  "don't  eat  like  a  boor. "  Table  manners  are, 
I  suppose,  one  of  our  most  marked  class  distinctions. 

fin  the  privacy  of  home  you  may  be  more  willing  to  consider 
her  prejudices. 


74  Fear  and  Conventionality 

to  forego,  thanks  to  political  revolution  *  or  bour- 
geois or  plutocratic  invasion,  in  his  heart  he  is 
always  a  gentleman.  Nor  can  any  vicissitude  of 
fortune  ever  keep  a  lady  from  being  a  lady.  How- 
ever she  is  dressed,  you  can  always  "tell'*  a  ladyf; 
whatever  his  company,  a  gentleman. 

Whatever  his  company,  too,  at  home  in  it  a 
gentleman  is  bound  to  be.  "A  real  well-bred  man 
would  speak  to  all  the  kings  in  the  world  with  as 
little  concern  and  as  much  ease  as  he  would  speak 
to  you,*''  writes  a  great  gentleman.  But  Lord 
Chesterfield  was  far  from  implying  that  a  gentle- 


*  A  democracy  like  the  United  States  is  the  very  stronghold  of 
chivalry.  Where  else  is  there  as  much  talk  of  being  a  "  thorough 
gentleman "  or  a  "perfect  lady  "  or  of  acting  like  a  gentleman  or  a 
lady,  and  where  else  is  the  charge  of  being  "common"  or  a  par- 
venu or  a  nouveau  riche  so  much  resented?  Does  not  some  of  the 
intolerance  bestowed  in  certain  Eastern  circles  upon  the  vulgar- 
ities of  the  plutocrat  betray  dislike  of  the  idea  that  wealth  can 
overcome  caste  barriers?  /  And  does  not  the  American  cherish 
chivalry  because  it  gives  him  a  sense  of  superiority  and  leaves  him 
innocent  of  any  sense  of  being  undemocratic? 

t  An  expertness  in  which  we  are  superior  to  the  Kakhyen. 
All  the  tribesmen  looking  the  same,  half-naked,  unkempt,  and 
grimy,  they  have  to  ascertain  verbally  each  other's  class.  So  the 
first  question  one  Kakhyen  puts  to  another  is:  "Are  you  a  noble 
or  a  commoner?  "  (Parker,  E.  H.,  "  The  Burmo-Chinese  Frontier 
and  the  Kakhyen  Tribes. ' '  Fortnightly  Review,  p.  94,  July,  1897.) 
Now  with  us  a  lady,  no  matter  how  shabbily  or  how  scantily 
attired,  wears  her  clothes,  one  always  hears,  "like  a  lady." 
Lately  to  be  sure  she  has  been  reproached  by  certain  news- 
paper editors  for  dressing  like  a  demi-mondainey  inconsiderately 
denying  her  caste. 


A  Postscript  on  CHivalry  75 

man*s  manners  should  always  be  the  same.  "For 
my  own  part,  I  am  more  upon  my  guard  as  to  my 
behaviour  to  my  servants  and  others  who  are 
called  my  inferiors,  than  I  am  towards  my  equals.** 
Undoubtedly  the  noble  lord  never  argued  with 
them  or  lost  his  temper.  He  believed  in  having  two 
sets  of  manners.  So  did  some  centuries  before 
him  one  Hugh  Rhodes  of  the  King's  Chapel. 

"If  thou  play,  game,  or  sporte,  with  thy  inferyour  by 
byrth, 
Use  gentle  pastyme,  men  will  then  commend  you  in 
yourmyrth."^ 

Evidently  the  prejudice  against  having  more  than 
one  set  of  manners  is  fairly  modem.  Is  it  the  out- 
come of  an  homogeneity-exacting  democracy  or  is  it 
the  last  refinement  of  arrogance  on  the  part  of  the 
gentry,  their  final  assertion  of  caste?  For,  if, 
thanks  to  his  inner  sense  of  superiority,  a  gentle- 
man may  be  at  ease  with  royalty,  he  is  even  more 
likely  to  feel  secure  with  his  acknowledged  inferiors 
and  to  forgo  many  outward  measures  of  defence, 
even  the   barrier  of  a  special  set  of  manners.* 

♦The  barrier  of  "manners"  is  neatly  touched  off  by  Mrs. 
Abell.  If  an  acquaintance  "is  found  to  be  undesirable  an  in- 
creased observance  of  ceremony  is  the  most  delicate  way  of 
showing  it,  and  a  person  would  be  very  obtuse  who  would  not 
take  such  a  hint. "     {Woman  in  Her  Various  Relations ^  p.  140.) 


76  Fear  and  Conventionality 

"The  best  manner  is  no  manner"  is  a  favour- 
ite saying  of  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance, 
and  a  very  fine  gentleman  he  is. 

Chivalry  has  been  based  indeed  on  the  feeling 
that  because  the  stranger,  women,  children,  the 
old,  the  "inferior"  from  status  or  personal  weak- 
ness, could  not  encroach  upon  you,  you  might 
dispense  with  some  of  the  usual  barriers  against 
them  quite  safely.  The  very  protection  you  afford 
them  is  a  barrier  in  itself  against  them.  It 
keeps  them  most  rigorously  and  most  subtly  in  their 
place.  Since  the  place  given  them  is  exalted,  it  is 
plainly  ungrateful  and  unreasonable  in  them  to 
wish  to  leave  it.  Stay  in  it  they  must,  if  they  are 
to  get  the  benefits  offered  them.  If  ever  they  show 
any  signs  of  leaving  it,  they  not  only  risk  losing 
their  advantages,  but  they  act  inconsiderately 
towards  their  protectors.  As  soon  as  there  is  any 
self-assertion,  no  matter  how  unconvincing,  by 
the  "weaker,"  the  "stronger"  becomes  demoral- 
ized, panic-struck.  The  one  barrier  he  has  counted 
on  is  threatened,  he  realizes,  and  threatened  in  the 
only  way  he  fears — by  implications  of  its  super- 
fluity. The  merest  hint  that  chivalry  is  not 
needed  causes  chivalry  to  fall  to  pieces,  prompt- 
ing the  sometime  chivalrous  to  resort  to  older 
and  cruder  means  of   self-defence,  to  insistence 


A  Postscript  on  CKivalry  77 

upon  the  prerogatives  of  seniority  or  upon 
privileges  of  caste  other  than  chivahous  or  up- 
on sex  exclusiveness  in  forms  more  direct  and 
more  substantial. 


VIII 

ACQUAINTANCES 

A  N  introduction  once  over  and  assurances 
^*  given,*  an  attempt  to  "place"  an  acquaint- 
ance is  generally  made.  His  name,  we  noted,  may- 
be a  help.  A  "tactful"  introducer  is  still  more 
helpful.  She  will  mention  the  place  the  nominee 
comes  from — Mr.  C.  of  Washington  let  us  say — or 
she  will  make  some  remark  to  start  conversation, 
such  as,  "Mr.  C.  has  just  returned  from  a  trip  to 
Colorado"'  or  "recently  returned  from  Europe." f 
If  Mr.  C.  is  a  celebrity,  that  fact,  we  are  told, 
should  also  be  brought  out.  For  example:  Mr.  C. 
"the  artist,  whose  pictures  you  have  frequently 

*."I  am  much  pleased,  I  am  much  rejoiced,"  says  the  Snake 
Indian.  (Spencer,  ii,  151.)  "I  am  glad  to  meet  you,"  or  "I  am 
happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  we  usually  say.  At  any 
rate  some  remark  should  be  made  at  once.     (Learned,  p.  94.) 

t  In  the  Soudan  travellers  do  not  have  to  depend  upon  the 
form  of  their  introduction — or  upon  the  hotel  labels  on  their 
valises — to  show  they  have  been  abroad.  After  they  have  been 
down  to  the  coast  the  Wanyamwezi  of  the  interior  change  their 
names.    (Wilson  and  Felkin,  i,  43.) 

78 


Acquaintances  79 

seen,**  or  Mr.  C,  "author  of  The  World  After  the 
Deluge,  which  you  so  greatly  admired.**' 

Mutual  acquaintances,  attendance  at  the  same 
school  or  church,  the  opera  or  the  circus,  any  cele- 
bration attracting  public  attention,*  are  other  con- 
versational openings.  Common  experiences  in  the 
professions  or  in  trade,  in  child-bearing,  in  house- 
keeping, as  tourists  t  are  also  favourite  topics 
of  conversation,  reassuring  aids  past  the  perils  of 
first  acquaintance.  {  For  common  experiences  of 
this  kind  imply  common  reactions,  i.  e.  that  your 
new  acquaintance  is  like  yourself,  hence  "a  safe 
acquaintance.** 

Herein  lies  the  social  value  of  slang,  of  proverbs 
and  aphorisms,  of  "funny  stories,*'  of  common- 
places, and  of  catchwords.  All  are  pledges,  so  to 
speak,  that  your  companion  thinks  and  feels  as 
you  do — ^if  you  are  a  "sociable**  man.    In  other 

*For  example  in  New  Guinea  the  Barium  or  great  initiation 
ceremony.  When  it  is  on  it  is  said  the  men  talk  of  nothing  else. 
(Webster,  Hutton.  Primitive  Secret  Societies,  p.  31.  New  York, 
1908.) 

t  But  you  are  advised,  if  you  wish  to  please,  not  to  boast  of 
your  travels  (Ward,  p.  392),  travelling,  we  recall,  being  an  asset. 

t  But  even  with  "old"  acquaintances  you  are  advised  "if  you 
really  wish  to  be  thought  .  .  .  amiable  and  unselfish  "  to  lead  the 
way  "for  sportsmen  to  talk  of  their  shooting,  a  mother  to  talk 
of  her  children,  a  traveller  of  his  journeys  and  the  countries  he  has 
seen,  a  young  lady  of  her  last  ball  and  the  prospective  ones,  an 
artist  of  his  picture,  and  an  author  of  any  book  that  he  has 
written."     {lb.,  p.  401.) 


8o  Fear  and  Conventionality' 

,  words,  belonging  to  the  same  group,  you  and  he 
have  the  same  ways.  You  are  likely  to  find  each 
other  companionable.  In  speech  at  least  you  are 
unlikely  to  disconcert  each  other  since  you  make 
no  personal  demand  on  each  other.  Proverbs  and 
aphorisms  require  no  response.  Rather  they  check 
response,  closing  the  subject.  The  only  way  to 
meet  an  aphorism  is  with  another.  Similarly  a 
ftmny  story  prompts  a  return  in  kind.  The  laugh- 
ter it  evokes  implies  a  group  point  of  view,  a 
common  sense  of  humour.*  Even  more  than 
fimny  stories  commonplaces  imply  a  group  point 
of  view,  calling  for  merely  an  impersonal,  tradi- 
tional response. 

Of  a  like  social  value  are  familiar  forms  or  for- 
mulas of  salutation,  of  polite  enquiry  or  concern,  of 
farewell,  of  congratulation  or  condolence,  in  short 
of  all  ** expressions  of  sympathy." 

"Passing  the  time  of  day"  is  in  many  places  an 
acceptable  formula  of  greeting,  safely  impersonal. 
"You  have  come  with  the  dew  on  you,"  says  one 
Samoan  to  another  in  the  early  morning,  changing 
later  to,  "You  have  come  in  the  heat  of  the  sun," 

♦The  experienced  orator  is  apt  to  open  with  a  "good  story"; 
he  knows  how  reassuring  it  is  to  his  audience.  To  meet  fully  the 
demand  for  this  particular  kind  of  satisfaction,  communities  may 
produce  a  special  functionary,  the  court  jester  or  the  professional 
humourist. 


Acquaintances  8l 

"You  have  come  in  the  darkness. "^  "May  your 
day  be  white/*  says  one  Arab  in  Cairo  to  another. 
"May  yours  be  like  milk,**  his  acquaintance  has 
to  rejoin. 4  "Good  day,**  say  we,  "the  top  of  the 
morning  to  you,'*  ''bonsoir,''  "gw/ewac/r/,**  and  often 
we  go  on  to  talk  about  the  weather  in  more  detail, 
and  even  less  personally  than  with  a  good  wish 
implicit.  A  good  wish  in  a  greeting  may  extend 
over  the  day.  The  Brahman  who  has  been  polite 
enough  to  tell  his  name*  should  be  saluted  in 
return  with:  "  Mayst  thou  be  long-lived, f  O  gentle 
one!**s 

It  is  important  for  salutations  in  particular  to  be 
reassuring.  "  It  is  well,  '*  was  the  salutation  of  the 
Hebrews,  and  the  Shunamite  woman  gives  it  even 
when  she  is  about  to  announce  the  death  of  her 
son.^  "All  is  well,"  says  the  messenger  to  David, 
regardless  of  the  death  of  Absalom.  ^  But  even 
under  less  trying  circumstances  salutations  should 
inspire  confidence.  Besides  it  is  always  possible 
that  your   acquaintance  has  changed   since  you 

*  See  p.  48. 

t  "And  the  word  'a'  must  be  added  at  the  end  of  the  name,  the 
syllable  preceding  it  being  drawn  out  the  length  of  three  moras  " — 
no  trifle  was  a  salutation  to  the  high-caste  Hindu.  "To  those 
persons  who,  when  a  name  is  pronounced,  do  not  ^understand 
the  meaning  of  the  salutation  a  wise  man  should  say,  *It  is  I'; 
and  he  should  address  in  the  same  manner  all  women. "  {Manu, 
ii,  12.-^.) 
6 


82  Fear  and  Conventionality 

last  met,  making  all  the  more  imperative  some 
familiarity  upon  meeting.  "You  haven't  changed 
a  bit,"  "You  are  as  young  as  ever,"  "You  are 
just  the  same  as  when  we  last  met,"  are  some  of 
the  compliments*  we  pay  after  an  absence.  Merely 
noticing  the  separation  has  a  good  effect.  "La 
nauichi?**  "Now  are  you  come?"  says  the  Abi- 
pone.^  "You  have  come  quickly,"  says  the 
Japanese  regardless  of  the  time  the  coming  has 
really  taken.  ^  Almost  as  regardless  we  say, 
"You  have  been  long  in  coming"  or  "I  haven't 
seen  you  for  such  a  long  time"  or  "It  is  an  age 
since  we  met."  The  awkwardness  of  meeting 
may  also  be  lessened  by  saying:  "What  have  you 
been  doing  with  yourself?"  "Have  you  been 
working  hard?"  may  be  said  to  a  man;  to  a  girl, 
"I  suppose  you  have  been  having  a  gay  time." 
Even  when  the  need  of  noticing  an  absence  or  in 
some  cases  of  ignoring  itf  is  not  felt,  a  salutation 
should  not  be  abrupt  or  startling.  Better  even 
than  a  question  about  what  the  other  has  been 
doing  is  a  reference  to  what  he  is  engaged  upon. 
"  SayadrCy'*  "  You  are  awake,*'  says  one  Fijian  early 
in  the  day  to  another. ' °  "  Z7a  mapu  maty''  "  You  are 
rested,"  is  the  civil  Samoan  salutation  to  a  man 

*  Let  us  note  the  implication  in  these  compliments  that  any 
change  is  to  the  bad.  f  See  p.  150. 


i\cqviaintances  83 

returning  from  fishing ;  ''  Ua  matu^''  "  You  are  dry/' 
or  * '  Faemalu*'  "  You  are  cool,"  to  one  who  has  just 
had  his  bath. ' '  Among  the  Pueblo  Indians  I  have 
noticed  similar  amenities.  A  man  stops  to  speak 
to  a  woman  laundering  her  clothes  in  the  creek. 
*' You  are  washing,"  he  says,  just  as  we  in  passing 
a  man  with  a  gun  would  say,  "You  are  going 
hunting, "  or  a  girl  sitting  under  a  tree  with  a  book, 
"You  are  reading." 

The  form  of  salutation  is  necessarily  stable,  but 
in  different  groups  it  varies  considerably.  Baring 
the  shoulder  on  the  Gold  Coast,  as  Burton  points 
out,  is  like  unhatting  in  England.'^  In  New  Ire- 
land when  one  man  says  to  another,  *'  I  am  glad  to 
see  you,"  he  pats  him  on  the  head'^;  with  us 
he  slaps  his  shoulder.  In  continental  Europe  the 
slap  is  rather  an  embrace,  and  men  as  well  as 
women  kiss.  The  Samoan  or  Fijian  kiss  is  a  sniff '  ^ ; 
the  Burmese,  a  sniff  with  a  pressure  of  lips  and 
nose  to  cheek. 's  To  greet  another  the  Balonda 
claps  his  hands  and  digs  himself  in  the  ribs'^;  the 
Ainu  rubs  the  palms  of  his  hands  together  and 
strokes  his  beard.''  There  are  several  variations 
in  handshaking.  In  the  Banks  Islands  a  man  locks 
the  middle  finger  of  his  right  hand  with  his  friend's 
fingers  and  then  pulls  it  away  with  a  crack,'*  a 
manoeuvre,  I  have  been  told,  something  like  the 


84  Fear  and  Conventionality^ 

greeting  between  members  of  our  Greek  letter 
secret  societies.  A  M'kikuyu  spits  on  his  hand 
before  giving  it  to  you  to  shake.  ^^  The  handshake 
of  the  Arab  seems  to  be  a  scuffle  in  which  each 
tries  to  raise  to  his  lips  the  hand  of  the  other.* 

While  the  Arab  is  shaking  your  hand  or,  like 
the  Chinaman,  kissing  his  own  hand  for  you,  he 
repeats,  "How  art  thou?"t — an  inquiry  he  may 
renew  several  times  if  he  is  well-bred,  during  the 
course  of  your  conversation.  ^**  The  inquiry  about 
yotu*  health  or  condition  in  general, — "  How  do  you 
do ? ' *  "  Comment  vous  portez-vous ?''  " Mwapoleni? ' ' 
" Are  your  wounds  healed? "J  " How  do  you  per- 
spire?**! "How  have  the  mosquitoes  used  you?"|| 
— is  extended  to  inquiry  about  your  family,  their 
health,  occupations,  whereabouts,  particularly  their 
whereabouts .  ' '  Otyano?  "  "  How  are  you  ?  * '  asks 
the  M'ganda,  taking  your  right  hand,  or  if  he  likes 
you  and  has  not  seen  you  for  some  time,  putting  his 
head  on  your  shoulder.  "^A,  ahy  otyano?'*  "No, 
no  [i.e.  there  is  nothing  wrong];  how^re  you?'*  you 
answer.     ''Ahy''  says  the  other.     ''Ahy'  you  say. 

♦Herein  Herbert  Spencer  sees  the  origin  of  our  own  hand- 
shaking.    {The  Principles  of  Sociology,  ii,  139.) 

\'*Allek  toy,'"  "I  hope  you  are  well,"  says  the  Bedouin. 
(Burckhardt,  p.  107.) 

X  Wemba.     (Gouldsburg  and  Sheane,  p.  256.) 

§  Cairo.     (Mallery,  p.  208.)  ||  Orinoco.     (76.,  p.  209.) 


Acquaintances  85 

And  so  you  keep  it  up  until  one  says  ''Agafayo?'' 
"How  is  it  where  you  come  from?"  *'Nungi,'* 
''  Well/'  **Agafayo?  "  "  How  is  it  where  you  come 
from?**  **Nungi.  Atewamwe  hatya?''  "Well. 
How  are  your  relations?"^'  An  American,  and 
married,  you  are  asked  about  your  husband  or 
wife:  "Where  is  John?"  "What's  he  doing  now?" 
"Is  Maria  here?"  "Is  she  better  than  she  was?" 
A  parent,  you  are  unfailingly  asked  about  the 
children  just  as  the  children,  as  they  grow  older, 
will  be  asked  about  you.  "  I  suppose  you  don't  see 
much  of  him,  now  he  is  away  in  school?"  "Isn't 
it  nice  to  have  her  with  you?  "  With  us,  as  among 
the  Ainu,  ^^  such  inquiries  may  be  kept  up  for  a  few 
moments  or  for  several  minutes.  Indeed  I  have 
been  to  "parties"  where  I  was  kept  the  entire  time 
answering  questions  about  persons  with  whom  the 
other  guests  had  associated  me.* 

The  Ainu  accompanies  his  inquiries  with  wishes 
of  good  fortune  to  his  interlocutor,  to  his  wife  and 
family  and  relatives,  to  his  native  place.  We  also 
wish  well.    "I  hope  you  are  in  good  health,"  we 


*  At  one  time  in  one  resort  inquiry  always  fell  upon  my  saddle 
horse.  Any  pronounced  fad  or  pastime  is  a  boon  to  your  com- 
munity, giving  them  something  to  talk  to  you  about.  My  mare 
is  dead  and  the  best  substitute  I  can  offer  for  her,  I  find,  is  a  pro- 
spective "trip,"  "Where  are  you  going  now?"  or  "I  hear  you 
are  off  again,"  is  an  easy  conversational  opening. 


86  Fear  and  Conventionality 

say,  "I  trust  your  mother  has  been  better  this 
winter/* 

Observations  on  personal  comfort  may  be  as 
effective  in  precluding  intimacy  as  addressing  a 
person  as  one  of  a  family  group.  * '  Don't  stand — "* 
— *'  Do  rest  yourself  "—"  Don't  trouble "—''  Don't 
rise" — "I  hope  you  haven't  taken  cold" — "You 
aren't  getting  tired,  are  you?"  or  bored? — *'Za- 
gono? ' '  (Wagogo  for  '  *  How  have  you  slept  ?  " )  ^  ^ — 
all  are  formulas  of  barricade  as  well  as  expressions 
of  solicitude.  Perhaps  in  these  cases  humanity 
as  a  whole  is  the  buffer  group.  Formulas  about 
minding  smoking  or  riding  backwards  or  being  in 
the  way  are  similarly  based  on  a  sense  of  humanity 
and  an  obliviousness  of  the  individual.  Petits 
soinSj  little  attentions,  small  courtesies,  have  some- 
thing of  the  same  character.  To  offer  a  woman 
a  chair  or  a  man  a  match  or  a  cigar  or,  if  you  are 
a  M'kikdyu*^  or  lived  a  century  ago,  snuff,  or,  if  a 
M'ganda,  some  of  your  coffee-berries  to  chew,^^  jg 
a  politeness  that  may  help  to  make  further  personal 
attention  unnecessary.  Courtly  manners  are  the 
readiest  of  guaranties  against  having  to  make 
unwonted   social   effort.     "I   am   always   polite 

*  "  Don't  sit, "  it  may  be  in  Samoa  or  in  Zululand  where  sitting 
or  squatting  is  the  posture  of  respect.  (Brown,  p.  412;  Leslie, 
David,  Among  the  Zulus  and  Amatongas^  p.  205.    Glasgow,  1875.) 


A.cquaintaxices  87 

because  it  is  so  much  trouble  to  be  rude,"  writes  a 
gentleman  of  the  old  school.  ^^ 

Easy  as  "conversational  openings,**  "small 
talk,**  and  "good  manners'*  may  have  rendered  a 
meeting,  freeing  it  of  the  dangers  of  personality, 
breaking  it  off  is  apt  to  be  difficult.  How  many 
persons  do  not  know  when  to  say  good-bye.  Leave- 
taking  seems  to  involve  a  sudden  disquieting  access 
of  consciousness  of  the  other  personality.  Hence 
leave-taking  is  very  apt  to  be  ceremonious.  To 
say  good-bye  Papuans  put  on  a  mat  or  smear 
themselves  with  river  mud  and  set  to  wailing.* 
Before  leaving,  a  group  of  Abipones  will  say  each  in 
turn:  "ikfa  chik  kla  leyci?''  "Have  we  not  talked 
enough?  '*  ^'Kla  leyci,''  says  the  last  one  to  speak  and 
then  they  all  rise  up  together. ^^  "You  stay  and 
watch,**  says  a  Fijian  on  leaving.  "Yes,  and  you 
voyage. **^^  "So  glad  to  have  had  this  glimpse  of 
you,  **  we  say,  or  we  elaborate  excuses  for  leaving  or 
resort  to  various  subterfuges  about  meeting  again. 
'*rawtom,**t   ''roaroa,''X   ''au    revoir,''    or    "aw/ 

*  Wollaston  tells  how,  on  the  departure  of  their  party,  a  New 
Guinea  native  friend  caught  looking  for  tins  in  the  vacated  camp 
burst  into  tears  and  heartrending  sobs  "which  changed  in  a 
moment,  when  he  caught  my  eye,  into  a  shout  of  laughter." 
(Wollaston,  A.  F.  R.,  Pygmies  and  Papuans,  p.  247.  New  York, 
1912.) 

t  Abipone  for  "  I  shall  see  you  again."     (Dobrizhoffer,  ii,  138.) 
X  Fijian  for  "the  morning  of  to-morrow."     (Williams,  i,  152). 


88  Fear  and  Conventionality 

wiedersehen,''  are  shorter  formulas.  To  keep  from 
asking,  ''When  shall  I  see  you  again?"  or  from 
planning  for  a  reunion  betokens  unusual  intimacy. 
In  all  the  crises  of  life  intimacy  between  ac- 
quaintances is  peculiarly  guarded  against, — per- 
haps because  under  emotional  stress  personality 
tends  to  assert  itself.  Hence  the  critical  event  is 
either  ceremonially  ignored  as  in  the  case  of  divorce 
or  death,  sometimes  of  birth,  or  formal  announce- 
ments of  it  are  made  or  notices  sent  out,  and  set 
expressions  of  interest  or  sympathy  or  formulas 
of  acknowledgment  are  considered  appropriate. 
Births  and  deaths,  betrothals  and  marriages  are 
annotmced  in  the  United  States  by  card  or  news- 
paper, by  toasts,  by  crepe  on  the  door-knob,  or  by 
flags  at  half-mast.  In  other  places  there  are  other 
methods  of  notification.  In  Switzerland  a  birth 
is  announced  by  flowers  worn  by  a  girl  of  the 
family,  a  bouquet  at  her  breast  for  a  girl,  another 
in  her  hand  for  a  boy.^^  In  the  royal  families 
of  Europe  cannon  are  fired  as  a  birth  notice  or 
holidays  or  pardons  proclaimed.  To  announce 
a  death  the  Sinhalese  send  out  a  lock  of  hair  cut 
from  the  head  of  the  dead  and  twisted  round  a 
small  stick,  all  wrapped  in  a  leaf  or  a  bit  of  cloth.  ^^ 
In  Uganda  both  birth  and  death  notices  are  given 
by    drum-beats.  ^^      Ceremonial    notices    usually 


^cq-uaintaxices  89 

require  an  acknowledgment.  To  the  friend  who 
has  become  "engaged"  or  a  "happy  parent,'* 
a  letter  of  congratulation  has  to  be  written*;  to 
one  "bereaved  by  death,"  a  letter  of  condolence. 
We  wish  a  bridal  couple  joy.  We  send  to  "inquire 
for"  the  sick.  We  pass  resolutions  in  honour  of 
the  dead  or  pay  them  "tributes"  at  memorial 
meetings  or  in  the  newspapers. 

During  crises  the  usual  impersonal  devices  of 
companionship  are  also  resorted  to — presents, 
calls,  entertainments.  There  are  wedding  presents 
and  birth  and  birthday  presents,  initiation  or 
graduation  or  first  communion  presents,  presents 
to  mourners,  presents  to  the  dead.  There  are  be- 
trothal and  wedding  visits,  visits  to  women  after 
childbirth,  to  the  dying,  to  the  grave.  There  are 
betrothal  and  wedding  festivities,  pregnancy 
parties,  naming  or  christening  parties,  death  or 
memorial  feasts.  But  present-giving,  "calling," 
and  "entertaining"  are  by  no  means  limited  to  the 
crises  of  life.  On  endless  occasions  we  are  called 
upon  to  perform  these  "social  duties."  Whether 
or  not  they  express,  as  this  term  implies,  a  sense 
of  social  obligation,  they  undoubtedly  manifest  our 

*  Writing  is  always  to  the  fore  in  crises,  for  many  barriers  to 
intimacy  have  been  formulated  for  writing,  more  even  than  for 
speech.  Compare  any  "guide  to  correspondence"  or  "complete 
letter  writer"  with  our  published  guides  to  conversation. 


90  Fear  and  Conventionality 

instinct  of  gregariousness.  In  varying  measure 
they  betray  apprehension  too  on  the  part  of  their 
performers  of  personal  relationships  and  they  may 
usually  be  suspected  of  being  designed  to  preclude 
intimacy  or  to  substitute  for  it.  From  this  point 
of  view  it  may  be  well  to  particularize  a  little 
under  separate  headings  in  regard  to  these  much 
used  parts  of  the  social  machinery,  parts  which  in 
all  social  codes  from  the  Confucian  classics  to 
contemporaneous  books  on  etiquette  receive  con- 
siderable attention. 


IX 

PRESENTS 

PERHAPS  the  most  iconoclastic  organization 
'  formed  in  our  day  has  been  a  New  York 
society  called  the  "Spugs/*  "The  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Useless  Giving."  Its  very  organi- 
zation indicates  how  grave  the  revolt  against 
making  presents  is  felt  to  be.  Presents  are  so 
much  a  manifestation  of  sociability  that  the  risk 
in  not  making  them  of  being  thought  imsocial  can 
only  be  lessened  or  offset  by  taking  it  with  others. 
Unsociable  together,  declare  the  Spugs,  we  become 
sociable,  as  it  were.  It  is  plain  enough  that  no 
Spug  is  willing  to  be  considered  unsocial.  But  to 
what  extent  is  he  or  she  consciously  revolutionary? 
What  presents  do  they  really  account  useless? 
Birthday  presents?  Christmas  presents?  Engage- 
ment presents?  Wedding  presents?  Presents 
made  by  guests,  by  the  homing  traveller,  by 
seekers  of  political  favour?  Funeral  presents? 
Votive  offerings?  Is  it  that  the  present  has  become 
to  them  an  inadequate  expression  for  the  occasion 

91 


92  Fear  and  Conventionality 

or  is  it  that  the  occasion  itself  has  lost  for  them  it{ 
significance?  Or  perhaps  the  Spugs  are  merel} 
poor  ethnologists,  failing  to  realize  the  true  useful 
ness  of  presents. 

Whenever  people  think  in  terms  of  crises  anc 
act  up  to  them  presents  have  an  important  socia 
function.  For  the  chief  participants  they  take  th( 
edge  off  the  crisis  and  to  outsiders  they  permi 
participation  in  the  situation  by  enabHng  them  t( 
take  part  in  the  only  way  they  care  to — imper 
sonally.  They  depersonalize  what  might  otherwise 
be  a  trying  moment.  Like  ceremonial  of  all  kinds 
ceremonial  giving  gratifies  our  instinct  for  gre 
gariousness  without  the  risk  of  intimacy.  Present; 
may  say  even  less  than  words.  The  chief  wh( 
contributes  a  woman  to  the  spirit  harem  of  hi; 
deceased  colleague  is  under  no  obligation  to  mak( 
any  further  expression  of  condolence.  The  kins 
man  who  contributes  to  the  raising  of  the  bride 
price  or  the  friend  of  the  family  who  sends  th' 
bride  a  wedding  present  is  thereby  relieved  of  evei 
wishing  the  couple  joy. 

Grumbling  over  having  to  make  such  a  presen 
is,  I  surmise,  merely  a  piece  of  modern  discontent 
In  one  of  the  Latin  comedies  there  is,  to  be  sure,  i 
rather  slurring  reference  to  present-making.  Bu 
it  is  not  Geta  who  complains  over  having  to  mak 


Presents  93 

a  wedding  present  to  the  bride  of  his  master's  son, 
not  to  speak  of  the  prospect  of  being  hit  again  for 
other  presents  when  she  bears  a  child  or  when  the 
time  comes  for  the  child  to  be  initiated.  It  is 
Davus,  the  man  from  whom  Geta  is  engaged  in 
collecting  a  bad  debt,^  and  Davus  may  be  sus- 
pected, like  other  malcontents,  of  taxing  social  con- 
ditions with  his  personal  grievance.*  In  societies 
that  are  neither  Roman  nor  modem  we  really 
never  hear  of  such  complaints.  Take  the  Todas  for 
example.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  Toda  complaining 
over  the  buffaloes  he  must  contribute  to  the  fimeral 
services  of  certain  relatives  or  over  the  tinkanik 
paum  tltpimi,  "we  give  a  piece  of  money  to  the 
purse,"  the  rupee  given  by  the  family  of  a  be- 
trothed boy  at  the  death  of  any  member  of  the 
family  of  his  fiancee  ?  ^  Take  our  colonial  forebears. 
The  family  of  the  deceased  appears  to  have 
lavished  fimeral  gloves  and  scarfs  and  rings  upon 
attendant  mourners  and  yet  I  find  in  the  letters  or 
memoirs  of  the  period  no  evidence  of  regret  over 
such  displays  of  generosity. 

Presents  are  useful  not  only  in  formal  crises. 


*  Nevertheless  there  may  have  been  some  genuine  Spug  senti- 
ment in  Rome.  Otherwise  how  are  we  to  explain  that  provision 
in  the  XII  Tables  against  burying  gold  with  the  dead,  quite  as 
remarkable  a  proscription  as  that  of  not  sending  flowers  to 
fvmerals. 


94  Fear  and  Conventionality 

They  serve  as  buffers  in  emergencies.  When  a 
rupture  of  customary  relations  is  imminent  they 
may  be  depended  upon  to  placate  or  appease — an 
irascible  god,  a  jealous  wife,  an  acquaintance  quick 
to  feel  aggrieved.  Peace  offerings  are  a  favourite 
way  out  too  after  the  jar  has  occurred.  They 
smooth  past  the  jolt,  they  mend  the  break.  Again 
and  again  the  disturbance  caused  by  social 
*' breaks"  is  righted  by  a  present.  During  his 
initiation  a  New  Britain  youth  is  expected  to 
avoid  most  carefully  his  kinswomen;  but  if  he  have 
the  bad  luck  to  meet  one  of  them  in  the  bush  he 
must  hand  over  to  her  anything  he  happens  to 
have  with  him.  This  forfeit  his  friends  have  sub- 
sequently to  redeem  for  him,  he  being  in  disgrace 
until  in  this  way  they  compensate  the  woman  "for 
the  shame  of  having  met  him. "  ^  In  the  Islands  of 
Torres  Straits  to  call  relatives  by  marriage  by 
name  is  taboo.  The  man  who  inadvertently  does 
so  feels  ashamed  and  his  relative  feels  insulted; 
but  the  feelings  of  both  may  be  relieved  by  a 
present  of  "some  good  thing."*    If  a  Blackfoot 


*  R.  C.  A.E.  T.  S.,  V,  143;  vi,  99.  The  taboo  is  on  women  as 
well  as  men;  but  although  the  women  break  it  frequently,  the 
conciliatory  present  is  not  expected  of  them.  It  would  mean  uttei 
impoverishment.  As  an  illustration  of  the  double  standard 
the  instance  is  not  rare;  but  as  an  illustration  of  a  greater  laci 
of  conventionality  in  women  than  in  men  it  is  rare  indeed. 


Presents  95 

Indian  appeared,  however  unintentionally,  in  the 
presence  of  his  mother-in-law,  it  placed  her  in 
such  an  embarrassing  position  that  he  had  to 
make  amends  by  giving  her  a  horse.  ^ 

When  the  jar  in  intercourse  is  due  not  to  a  social 
faux  pas,  but  to  absence,  present-making  is  also  of 
service.  When  Andamanese  meet  after  prolonged 
absence  they  exchange  whatever  they  happen  to 
have  in  their  hands* — bows,  arrows,  nautilus 
shells,  s  We  recall  how  presents  are  made  else- 
where by  the  homecoming  traveller.  Perhaps  the 
present  sent  a  host  by  his  departed  guest  is  also 
prompted  in  part  by  the  desire  to  ease  off  the  break 
in  their  relationship,  ceremonial  though  it  be.  An- 
alogously, in  times  of  crisis,  the  present,  I  have  no 
doubt,  is  a  kind  of  shock  absorber,  diverting  atten- 
tion from  the  event  itself,  from  death,  let  us  say,  or 
from  growing  up  or  from  getting  married. 

That  a  present  may  be  a  bond  as  well  as  a  buffer 
I  am  well  aware.  A  present  may  establish  a  tie 
between  giver  and  recipient,  conveying  in  a  kind 
of  magical  way  something  of  the  one  to  the  other. f 

♦The  rest  of  their  behaviour  is  of  interest.  Without  going 
through  any  other  fonn  of  greeting,  they  gaze  speechless  at  each 
other  for  some  time,  as  much  as  half  an  hour;  then  the  younger 
of  the  two,  making  some  commonplace  remark  "to  break  the  ice," 
says  the  ethnographer,  they  proceed  to  exchange  the  latest  news. 

t  This  may  be  the  reason  why  present-making  between  the 
sexes  is  restricted.    We  read,  for  example,  that  "unmarried  ladies 


9^  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Betrothal  or  marriage  presents  exchanged  be- 
tween bride  and  groom  may  have  this  meaning  and 
perhaps  presents  between  host  and  guest  and 
presents  to  the  dead.  But  in  all  these  instances  the 
present  is  suggested  by  the  feeling  that  there  is 
a  gap  to  be  bridged  over,  the  gap  between  the 
sexes,  between  members  of  different  families  or 
tribes  or  countries,  between  the  living  and  the 
dead.  What  else  is  the  present  itself  but  an  at- 
tempt to  bridge  the  gap,  a  timid  little  approach  to 
a  personal  relationship,  pathetic  enough  at  times, 
by  those  who  know  not  the  ways  to  intimacy? 

ought  not  to  accept  presents  from  gentlemen  who  are  neither 
related  nor  engaged  to  them."  (Ward,  p.  392.)  Again,  that 
"presents  made  by  a  married  lady  to  a  gentleman  should  be  in 
the  name  of  both  herself  and  her  husband."  (Duffey,  p.  150.) 
— To  be  sure  the  restriction  appears  at  times  to  be  economic. 
A  lady  is  told,  for  example,  that  she  "should  not  be  under  obliga- 
tion to  a  man  for  presents  that  plainly  represent  a  considerable 
money  value"  (Morton,  p.  206),  the  idea  being,  I  suppose,  that 
her  favours  are  purchasable.  But  this  idea  may  be  secondary, 
superimposed  upon  the  original  idea  of  sympathetic  magic. 


X 

CALLING 

PRESENTS  are  a  natural  appanage  to  another 
*  conspicuous  expression  of  the  gregarious 
instinct,  the  visit.  Visits  to  the  dwellings  of  the 
gods  or  of  their  human  representatives,  priests  or 
chiefs,  are  almost  always  accompanied  by  presents. 
Among  us,  although  turkeys  are  sent  once  a  year 
to  the  White  House  and  miscellaneous  presents 
are  received  there  from  time  to  time,  presents  to 
statesmen  are  now  as  a  rule  discountenanced  and 
sometimes  even  penalized  as  bribes.  But  in  the 
churches  votive  offerings  are  still  made  or  to  the 
beggar  at  the  portal  alms  are  given,  and  even  in 
Protestant  churches  the  plate  is  passed.*  ^ 
In  less  important  or  less  conservative  circles 

*  Why  this  difference  between  church  and  state?  Perhaps  it 
turns  on  the  question  of  the  return  gift.  A  government  official 
cannot  make  a  return  gift  without  injury  to  the  commonwealth; 
but  it  seems  to  be  held  that  the  gods  are  not  quite  as  restricted, 
although  likely  as  not  their  favours  to  one  may  be  at  the  cost  of 
others.  Then,  too,  unlike  the  gods,  government  officials  are 
supposed  to  be  on  their  job  without  the  need  of  propitiation. 
7  97 


98  Fear  and  Conventionality 

visits  are  independent  of  presents.  They  have, 
however,  other  ceremonial  features.  Describing 
them  I  shall  have  in  mind  merely  the  so-called  **  so- 
cial cair'  in  distinction  to  the  wedding  call,  the  call 
of  inquiry,  the  call  of  condolence,  etc.,  calls  natur- 
ally partaking  of  the  ceremonial  of  the  occasion  on 
which  they  are  paid. — The  "social  call'*  has  to  be 
made  during  ''calling  hours,"  nowadays  from 
half-past  three  to  half -past  six.  A  few  years  ago 
the  hours  were  from  two  to  four,  as  that  interval 
interfered  with  "neither  hmch  nor  the  afternoon 
drive."  In  small  towns,  however,  calling  began 
as  early  as  twelve  o'clock.*  In  calling,  the  day  of 
the  week  as  well  as  the  hour  is  of  importance.  A 
call  should  be  paid  on  "the  day  at  home"  of  the 
hostess,t  or  if  a  man  is  calling  on  a  woman,  on 
Sunday,  after  church  or  in  the  afternoon.'  Ex- 
ceptions to  these  rules  I  shall  refer  to  later.  A  call 
must  not  last  less  than  five  or  more  than  fifteen 
minutes.  For  paying  it  one's  "best"  or  at  least 
"second  best"  clothes  must  be  worn,  "a  calling 
dress  or  costume  more  elegant  than  that  worn  for 
walking  or  for  shopping."  Gentlemen  wear  "a 
black  cut-away,  or  a  frock-coat,  dark  trousers, 

*  Ward,  p.  67.  The ' '  social  call  * '  was  once  called  the ' '  morning 
call." 

t  A  call  upon  any  other  day  "seems  to  denote  no  wish  to  see 
her. "     {lb.,  p.  62.)    But  cp.  Manners  and  Social  Usage,  p.  7. 


Calling  99 

silk  necktie  (black  is  in  the  best  taste),  and  a 
medium  or  neutral  shade  of  gloves."'  A  man 
calling  in  his  "business  suit"  at  least  apologizes 
for  it.  However  they  are  dressed,  "gentlemen 
leave  their  umbrellas,  overcoats,  and  overshoes  in 
the  hall;  but  take  their  hats  and  sticks  with  them 
into  the  drawing-room,  unless  they  are  calling  on 
old  friends.  "3  Except  possibly  with  old  friends 
too,  the  call  is  characterized  by  certain  formulas 
of  speech  as  well  as  by  certain  clothes,  and  a  more 
or  less  restricted  set  of  topics  of  conversation  is 
employed.  Conversational  openings  and  polite 
inquiries  appear  to  special  advantage  in  calling. 
A  call  has  to  be  "returned"  and  returned  within  a 
given  period.  In  returning  it  "the  exact  etiquette 
of  the  person  who  has  left  the  first  card  "  should  be 
observed.  4  Calling  is  held  to  be  a  preliminary, 
and  in  this  we  see  its  most  marked  ceremonial 
aspect,  indispensable  to  further  social  intercourse. 
"You  can  hardly  invite  people  to  your  house  until 
you  have  called  and  have  left  a  card.  To  stop  an 
acquaintance,  one  has  but  to  stop  leaving  cards. 
It  is  thus  done  quietly  but  securely.  "^ 

Calling,  like  present-making,  is  subject  to 
careful  regulation  between  the  sexes,  and  between 
those  of  different  ages  or  of  different  castes. 
Women  do  not  pay  calls  on  men,  "no  lady  leaves 


lOO  Pear  and  Conventionality 

her  own  card  upon  a  gentleman."^  And  yet 
calling  appears  to  be  more  obligatory  for  women 
than  for  men.  "In  case  a  man  is  legitimately 
prevented,  by  business  cares,  from  paying  calls 
or  leaving  his  cards  in  person,  it  is  proper  for  his 
wife  or  mother  or  sister,  or  other  near  relative,*  to 
leave  or  send  his  card  with  her  own. "  ^  Sometimes 
a  man  wishes  to  call  in  person.  He  may  not  "call 
upon  a  lady,"  however,  "unless  he  has  first  received 
permission  to  do  so.  "*  Nor  does  he  ask  in  calling 
for  the  young  ladies  only.  It  is  indeed  incorrect 
for  a  very  young  lady  to  invite  a  gentleman  to 
call.  9 

Younger  women  are  not  only  restricted  in  the 
matter  of  calls  by  men,  but  also  in  connection  with 
calls  by  elder  women.  In  that  annual  exchange  of 
calls  certain  authorities  consider  necessary  to  the 
continuance  of  an  acquaintance,  it  is  the  junior 
who  has  to  pay  the  first  call.  Under  other  cir- 
cumstances any  doubt  arising  as  to  who  should  call 
first  is  determined  by  seniority.    It  is  always  the 

*  "Only  the  women  of  his  own  household,  or  a  relative  with 
whom  he  habitually  pays  visits,  can  thus  represent  a  man  by 
proxy."  (Morton,  p.  32.)  His  proxies  are  sometimes  neglectful 
according  to  this  authority.  * ' '  Solid  men '  would  go  *  into  society ' 
far  more  frequently  and  with  greater  alacrity  if  they  felt  assured 
that  the  way  had  been  paved  with  their  own  visiting  cards,  well 
laid  in  place  by  the  deft  fingers  of  their  skilful  women  folk,  who 
have  left  no  flaw  in  the  mosaic  of  social  proprieties. "     {lb.,  p.  35.) 


Calling'    ■        ; , ,  :  :    \ ,:  [  \ipi  ] 

privilege  of  the  senior  to  wait  to  be  called  upon. 
She  has  the  privilege  too  under  certain  circum- 
stances of  leaving  cards  upon  her  junior  without 
asking  to  see  her,  a  performance  in  the  younger 
woman  nothing  less  than  a  gross  affront.  Then 
the  truly  aged  may  cease  from  calling  altogether. '  ° 

Caste  affects  calling.  An  "inferior"  does  not 
call  upon  his  or  her  "superior, "  at  least  without  a 
special  invitation.*  "It  is  not  the  correct  thing 
to  call  first  upon  people  in  a  higher  social  position 
than  one's  own.""  Even  where  the  difference  in 
position  is  slight,  it  is  the  lady  higher  in  rank  or 
more  "prominent  in  fashion"  who  pays  the  first 
caU.'^ 

Into  the  ceremonial  of  the  "first  call"  enter 
many  nice  distinctions  besides  those  of  rank  or 
age.  "At  places  of  summer  resort,  those  who  own 
their  cottages  call  first  upon  friends  who  rent  them ; 
and  those  who  rent,  in  turn,  call  upon  each  other 
according  to  the  priority  of  arrival;  while  both 
those  who  own  and  those  who  rent  call  first  upon 
friends  arriving  at  the  hotels. "'^    But  supposing 


•Unless  we  consider,  as  perhaps  we  should,  ecclesiastical  or 
political  "audiences,"  church ^hours,  or  public  receptions  in  the 
light  of  calls. 

Herbert  Spencer  considers  that  calling  originated  as  an  act  of 
homage.  It  was  a  form  of  propitiation  by  the  "inferior"  of  the 
"superior." 


jpz  '['',: 'Fi^ir '.axiid  JConventionality 

both  ladies  arrived  at  the  same  time  to  occupy 
both  of  them  rented  villas?  Then  "the  lady  whose 
house  is  in  the  city  nearest  to  the  watering  place 
would  assuredly  feel  herself  at  liberty  to  make  the 
first  call  if  she  desired  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
her  neighbour,  provided  they  had  both  rented  the 
villas  for  the  first  time  that  season.  If  not,  the 
one  who  has  been  the  longest  occupant  calls  first, 
without  reference  to  the  distance  of  their  respec- 
tive cities. "'4  In  the  autumn,  home  from  the 
summer  resort,  those  who  return  first  call  first. '^ 

Calling  plays  an  important  part  in  the  practice 
of  hospitality.  It  may  be  that  the  stranger  is  not 
invited  to  an  "entertainment"  until  he  has  called 
"to  pay  his  respects."  (I  know  one  woman  who 
says  she  never  asks  a  man  to  dinner  unless  he  has 
first  called,  and  I  have  read  of  hostesses  who  make 
in  this  connection  a  seasonal  demand.*)  Then 
unless  the  guest  callsf  after  the  entertainment,  he 
may  not  be  invited  to  another.  He  must  call 
promptly,  too,  certainly  within  three  days.  To  this 
dinner  call,  as  it  is  known  among  us,  a  very  special 

*"  Gentlemen  should  not  expect  to  receive  invitations  from 
ladies  with  whom  they  are  only  on  terms  of  formal  visiting,  until 
the  yearly  or  autumnal  call  has  been  made,  or  until  their  card3 
have  been  made  to  represent  themselves. "     (Ward,  p.  79.) 

t  In  China  and  in  some  places  in  the  United  States  he  may  send 
or  leave  cards. 


Calling  103 

value  appears  to  attach.  It  continues  to  be  paid 
by  persons  who  pay  calls  of  no  other  kind.  Im- 
portant, however,  as  it  is,  the  late  hostess  is 
expected  not  to  be  "at  home"  when  it  is  paid. 
"For  this  reason  persons  who  wish  to  leave  cards 
only,  call  within  the  prescribed  three  days,  as  they 
are  then  sure  of  not  being  admitted  where  the 
customs  of  society  are  understood."'^ 

With  us  "tea"  is  the  only  "refreshment" 
offered  to  a  caller;  elsewhere  the  refection  or,  as  in 
Japan,  the  manner  of  serving  it,  is  more  elaborate. 
In  Hayti  I  once  had  to  drink  champagne  during  an 
early  morning  call  and  once  in  Sicily  an  after- 
dinner  liqueur  on  an  empty  stomach.  In  Manila 
certain  native  fruits  were  always  offered  to  me 
when  I  called.  During  the  pinon  nut  season  in  New 
Mexico  I  have  noticed  that  both  Indians  and 
Mexicans  take  for  granted  in  their  callers  an  ex- 
haustless  capacity  for  piiion  nuts,  frequently  a 
not  unpleasant  assiimption.  And  just  so  any 
traveller,  I  suspect,  is  sure  to  have  stories  of  what 
he  has  had  set  before  him  during  his  calls  upon  the 
natives.  Even  among  us  a  sojourner  would  find 
that  when  the  day  at  home  had  been  magnified 
into  an  afternoon  reception  it  was  the  correct 
thing  "to  have  several  varieties  of  delicate  and 
pretty  cakes,  and  several  kinds  of  sandwiches  and 


I04  Fear  and  Conventionality 

bread  and  butter,  also  salted  almonds,  candies, 

litchi  nuts,  or  other  dainty  trifles  on  the  afternoon 
tea-table.  "^7 

Entertainment  other  than  food  or  drink  may 
also  be  offered  to  callers.  " It  is  the  correct  thing: 
To  darken  the  windows  and  light  the  rooms  by  ar- 
tificial light  at  a  large  and  handsome  reception, 
also  to  decorate  the  house  with  flowers  and  to  hire 
a  band  of  musicians,  if  the  hostess  wish  to  do  so." 
Also:  "To  have  a  small  informal  dance  succeed  an 
afternoon  tea  or  reception,  notifying  beforehand 
the  guests  who  are  to  remain  and  take  part  in  it 
and  perhaps  asking  others  to  remain,  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment."'^  In  India  too  dancing  is  a 
feature  in  calling.  A  distinguished  man  about  to 
call  upon  another  engages  to  accompany  him  a 
troupe  of  quasi  temple  dancers. 

Calling,  like  so  many  of  the  customs  we  have 
been  noting,  is  becoming  obsolete;  but  I  have  had 
the  good  fortune  to  observe  it  in  one  of  the  few 
places  where  its  practice  is  still  vigorous,  in  Wash- 
ington. Washington  has  not  yet  entered  upon  the 
decadent  stage  of  calling,  the  stage  of  leaving 
cards  or  even  mailing  them.  The  Washington  call 
must  be  made  in  person.  Cards  must  be  left, 
however,  whether  the  hostess  is  seen  or  not.  They 
are  deposited  on  the  hall  table  or,  in  hotels  or 


Calling  105 

apartment  houses,  in  the  letter  box  in  the  ofiSce.* 
A  row  of  baskets  is  sometimes  provided  for  these 
cards  outside  the  door  of  the  hotel  parlour  within 
which  a  row  of  ladies  stand  to  "receive."  Ladies 
who  receive  together  in  this  way  may  be  covered 
rapidly,  but  even  calls  in  private  houses  may  be 
"done"  without  much  loss  of  time.  From  thirty 
to  fifty  calls  may  be  made  of  an  afternoon  by  the 
expert  providing,  as  she  puts  it,  she  has  luck,  i.  e, 
she  does  not  find  everyone  in.  She  has  of  course 
drawn  up  her  list  with  forethought  and  she  is 
punctilious  in  timing  each  call.  She  keeps  within 
a  safe  range  of  conversation  in  order  not  to  be 
beguiled  into  exceeding  her  allotted  time  or  into 
overdrawing  upon  the  energy  she  needs  for  accom- 
plishing her  round.  The  fund  of  energy  she  starts 
with  seems,  however,  at  times  to  increase  rather 
than  lessen;  each  call  done  gives  her,  I  take  it,  a 
stimulating  sense  of  having  acquired  merit.  At 
any  rate  at  the  end  of  the  three  hours,  however 
tired  she  may  be,  her  sense  of  accomplishment  is 
vastly  satisfying.  And  so  for  several  months 
during  the  year  the  Washington  resident  pays  her 
daily  round  of  calls,  returning  to  the  top  of  her 

*  "Should  the  lady  of  the  house  open  the  door  herself,  the  card 
must  by  no  means  be  handed  to  her;  it  should  be  left  as  unob- 
trusively as  possible  on  the  hall  table  or  elsewhere."  {Manners 
and  Social  U sages ^  p.  13.) 


I06  Fear  and  Conventionality 

list  when  she  reaches  the  bottom  of  it,*  a  being 
more  gregarious  or  more  impersonal  it  were  hard 
to  find. 

In  Washington  those  who  called  most,  I  noticed, 
went  ''out**  least,  and  there  seemed  to  be  little 
or  no  relation  at  any  rate  between  calling  and 
"going  out";  but  according  to  those  books  on 
American  etiquette  I  have  had  to  cite,  my  oppor- 
tunities for  observation  at  first  hand  ha-ving  been 
locally  limited,  the  relations  between  calls  and 
entertainments  in  the  country  at  large  are  close. 
Not  only  does  the  call  and  the  call  alone  qualify 
you  to  be  invited  to  entertainments,  but  "after 
an  interchange  of  cards,  the  acquaintance  drops, 
unless  followed  by  an  invitation  upon  one  side  or 
the  other. "'9  In  other  words  calHng  without  the 
adjunct  of  entertaining  does  not  firmly  establish 
an  acquaintance,  calls  being  only  "in  part  the 
bases  upon  which  that  great  structure,  society, 
mainly  rests."" 

*  For  in  Washington  the  rule  does  not  hold  that  "once  an 
acquaintance  is  established,  it  is  kept  up  by  calling  once  a  year." 
{The  Complete  Hostess,  p.  311.)  In  Washington  "one's  card  left 
on  the  hall  table  at  a  reception  or  tea  establishes  the  acquaint- 
ance for  a  year"  only  if  the  call  is  not  meanwhile  returned.  Re- 
turned, it  must  be  in  turn  returned.  Also  it  is  a  question  in 
Washington  whether  attending  a  tea  counts  as  a  call.  Among  the 
most  scrupulous,  i.e.  in  Congressional  circles,  it  does  not  count. 


XI 

ENTERTAINING 

"npHERE'S  no  use  in  coming  to  your  party," 
"■■  one  sometimes  hears  from  the  social  rebel, 
"1  shan't  see  anything  of  you.  One  never  does  of 
one's  hostess,  or  of  anyone  else,  that's  the  worst 
of  parties. "  True,  but  why  make  any  point  of  it.^ 
Why  suggest  that  entertainments  should  be  for 
the  sake  of  personal  relationships?  They  bring 
people  together,  but  it  is  their  very  nature  to  keep 
personalities  apart.  They  are  essentially  devices 
for  gregariousness  and  for  gregariousness  only,  for 
gregariousness  safeguarded  against  personal  re- 
lationship. To  expect  them  to  yield  opportunities 
for  intimacy  is  peculiarly  modem  and,  if  I  may  say 
so,  ignorant  and  rather  silly.  A  brief  survey  of  the 
leading  forms  of  entertaining  may  show  how  irra- 
tional is  the  grievance  of  those  who,  disappointed 
on  this  score,  "don't  like  society." 

Perhaps  the  simplest  form  of  "society"  is  the 
procession  or  the  review.  It  prevails  in  royal  and 
in  ecclesiastical  circles.    Sir  Richard  Burton,  that 

107 


lo8  Fear  and  Conventionality 

inimitable  traveller,  gives  a  graphic  account  of  a 
procession  he  witnessed  at  the  court  of  Dahomi. 
"The  Caboceers  [head  men)  were  followed  by  the 
companies,  of  which  the  first  was  that  of  the 
Ahaujito  or  singers  and  of  the  Hunto  or  drummers. 
•  .  .  The  distinguishing  mark  was  the  large-tail 
'chauri,*  with  a  man's  jawbone  above  the  handle. 
They  were  preceded  by  nine  'fancy  flags,' 
adorned  with  all  manner  of  figures,  animate  and 
inanimate,  cut  out  of  coloured  cloth  and  sewn 
upon  the  plain  ground.  These  were  followed  by 
.  .  .  eight  human  crania  dished  up  on  small 
wooden  bowls  like  bread-plates,  at  the  top  of  very 
tall  poles.  .  .  .  The  Achi,  or  bayoneteers,  were 
headed  by  their  commander  in  a  man-o'-war's 
cap,  about  twenty  in  number.  .  .  .  Followed  a 
few  carbineers,  whose  half-shaven  heads  showed 
them  to  be  slaves  of  the  palace :  they  are  known  as 
Zo-hu-nun — 'Fire  at  the  foe's  front.'  A  white 
flag  with  a  blue  anchor  at  the  end  of  a  waving  red 
stripe  denoted  the  Gan'u'nlan  Company,  the 
'Conquerors  of  all  animals,'  so  called  from  the 
size  of  their  guns,  which  are  expected  to  kill,  not 
to  wound:  forming  part  of  the  artillery  with  the 
Agbarya,  or  blunderbuss  men,  they  are  chosen  for 
size  and  strength,  and  much  prefer  themselves 
to  the  commonalty  of  the  army.     They  followed 


Entertaining  109 

a  tattered  Jack  and  a  fancy  flag,  and  their  chiefs 
bowed  to  us,  whilst  the  men,  resting  the  butt  upon 
the  ground,  fired  resonant  charges."' 

A  review  is  a  favourite  way  not  only  with  African 
monarchy  but  with  government  everywhere  of 
entertaining  distinguished  guests.  A  religious  pro- 
cession on  a  Saint's  day  may  be  accounted  an 
analogous  form  of  hospitality,  a  form  that  Church 
and  State,  even  if  at  other  times  they  go  separate 
ways,  usually  unite  in  celebrating.*  But  political 
or  ecclesiastical  parades  are  not  limited  to  enter- 
taining distinguished  travellers  or  saints;  they 
occur  on  a  great  variety  of  occasions.  Nor  is  the 
parade  or  procession  itself  as  a  form  of  sociability 
confined  to  State  or  Church.  There  are  university 
or  school  processions,  guild  or  labour  processions, 
funeral  and  wedding  and  ^'coming  out'*  marches, 
the  walk  in  to  dinner,  woman  suffrage  processions, 
and,  most  recent  of  all,  peace  parades. — Parade 
ceremonial  consists  of  marching  together,  usually 
with  music  to  facilitate  keeping  step  or  to  inspire 
in  the  marchers  the  same  emotion  at  the  same 
moment,  and  the  carrying  of  banners,  standards, 
or  insignia,  and  of  the  elimination,  more  or  less 
compulsory,  of  verbal  communication. 

*  Mgr.  Lavelle  and  Mayor  Mitchell,  for  example,  head  together 
the  St.  Patrick's  Day  parade  in  New  York  City. 


no  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Almost  as  perfect  an  expression  of  gregarious- 
ness  as  marching  is  dancing,  or  at  least  certain 
forms  of  dancing.  Dancing  figures  in  fact  in  pro- 
cessions. In  the  parade  during  the  So-sin  Custom 
held  in  honor  of  deceased  Dahoman  royalty, 
"seven  troubadour  women,  holding  horse-tails  and 
twirling  flags  in  their  left  hands,*'  assisted  by 
another  band  of  fifty  women,  *' danced  long  and 
violently  before  the  King."*  In  the  Abipone 
funeral  parade,  the  women  were  said  to  "go  leap- 
ing like  frogs.  "3  After  the  engulfing  of  the 
Egyptians,  when  Miriam  led  forth  the  Jewish 
women,  she  danced  before  them.  The  military 
"goose  step'*  may  be  called,  I  suppose,  a  dance 
step.  Even  detached  from  the  parade,  dancing 
has  traits  in  common  with  it — movement  to 
rhythm  and  more  or  less  of  a  taboo  on  speech, 
particularly  in  primitive  dancing.  Dances  are 
even  more  widespread  than  parades,  occurring  on 
an  even  greater  variety  of  occasions  and  at 
assemblies  of  all  kinds.*  When  their  husbands 
were  campaigning  it  was  incumbent  upon  the  Tshi 
tribeswomen  to  dance. "*  Debutante  dances*  and 
dances  at  tribal  initiations  and  at  weddings  are 
very  common.     The  modem  ballet  was  given  its 

*  In  rare  instances  dancing  seems  to  be  spontaneous.  The 
Veddas  are  said  to  dance  for  pleasure  like  a  child. 


Entertaining  III 

impulse,  it  is  said,  in  Italy  at  an  entertainment 
to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  Isabella  of  Aragon 
and  Galeazzo,  Duke  of  Milan.  ^  Many  peoples 
besides  the  Abipones  dance  at  funerals.  Burton 
saw  fifty  of  the  queens  of  Dahomi  dancing  before 
the  shrine  of  their  royal  father-in-law  during  the 
memorial  services  in  his  honour.  '^  Outside  of  Italy 
and  Dahomi  dancing  has  ever  been  a  popular 
court  entertainment.  At  religious  gatherings  too 
dancing  is  apt  to  be  a  feature.  Among  some  of  the 
Moslem  sects  and  some  of  the  early  Christian, 
in  Shinto,  in  the  cults  of  the  Hindu  gods,  among 
the  Shakers,  with  the  priesthoods  of  the  Ewes 
and  Tshis,  of  the  Awemba,  and  in  fact  of  in- 
numerable tribes,  dancing  is  a  condition  of 
"possession."* 

Chanting  or  singing  often  accompanies  dancing; 
but  it  is  often  too  a  separate  form  of  entertainment. 
The  funeral  dirge  is  universal.  The  serenade  of 
courtship  and  the  wedding  song  are  common. 
The  gods  have  their  holy  singers  and  in  almost  all 
churches  ritual  is  intoned  or  sung.  There  are  also 
court  singers.  The  conteur  once  kept  by  every 
Turkish  Pasha  told  his  story  in  rhythm.^  At 
Benin   it   was   a   chief's  wives  who   sang  in  his 

*  May  we  not  consider  possession  gregariousness  at  its 
intensest? 


112  Fear  and  Conventionality 

honour,  each  lady  being  famous  for  some  particular 
song.  ^  I  have  often  heard  of  an  American  singer 
asking  permission  to  sing  at  the  musicales  given 
periodically  at  the  White  House. 
Y  Singing  has  ever  been  considered  a  social  accom- 
plishment. The  Ainu  returned  from  abroad  chants 
the  account  he  gives  his  friends  of  his  travels.'" 
The  Akikuyu  welcome  strangers  with  a  song." 
Every  evening  the  Bororo  chief  sings  his  orders 
for  the  following  day.'*  The  Euahlayi  of  New 
South  Wales '3  sings  his  riddles.*  To  be  socially 
qualified  the  early  Victorian  damsel  was  taught 
to  sing,  and  in  many  an  old-time  novel  her  friends 
are  assumed  to  be  pleased  to  listen  to  her.  She 
was  a  successor,  so  to  speak,  of  the  mediaeval 
minstrel,  singing  after  instead  of  during  dinner. 
Minstrelsy  at  feasts  is  very  common.  At  a  party 
given  to  the  Routledges  by  the  chief  of  the  Aki- 
kuyu, two  young  warriors  each  sang  a  solo,  all 
joining  in  the  chorus  and  the  ladies  at  the  close 
applauding.'^  There  was  singing  at  Chinese 
*'  drinking  entertainments  " — commonly  a  few  lines 
from  one  of  the  pieces  of  the  Shih  King  expressing 
a  sentiment  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 's    A  few 

*  Telling  riddles  is  in  itself  a  form  of  entertainment.  No  longer 
very  popular  among  us  except  in  childhood,  it  is  a  favourite  pas- 
time of  savages  and  of  peasants.  Like  proverbs  or  aphorisms  or 
quotations,  riddles  enable  a  conversation  to  be  quite  impersonal. 


£ntertainin|(  1 13 

years  ago  at  a  luncheon  given  to  us,  a  party  of 
visiting  American  politicians,  by  the  Japanese 
Minister  of  War,  the  Marquis  Ito,  famous  among 
statesmen,  sang  to  us  verses  of  his  own  written  in 
our  honour.*  On  another  occasion,  after  dinner 
in  Japanese  style,t  our  hosts  entertained  us  with  a 
Japanese  play  acted  by  the  leading  geisha  company 
of  Tokio.  We  too  take  our  dinner  guests  to  play 
or  opera.  Elsewhere  the  feast  itself  has  been 
enlivened  by  the  drama. 

Into  the  religious  origins  of  the  drama  we  need 
not  go.  The  last  trace  of  its  ecclesiastical  charac- 
ter disappeared  when  women  and  children  were  no 
longer  excluded  from  it.    But  it  persists  without 

*The  charm  of  this  naive  performance  was  all  the  greater 
because  other  native  ways  had  been  so  carefully  hidden  from  us 
by  our  hosts;  but  on  some  of  us  the  charm,  I  fear,  was  lost,  on 
those  of  us  not  familiar,  even  ethnographically,  with  minstrelsy  at 
meals. 

t  We  sat  on  cushions  on  the  floor,  women  and  men  in  different 
rooms.  The  elderly  Kentuckian  next  to  me  had  rheumatism  and 
suffered  considerably  from  her  bent  knees.  There  were  other 
incongruities  about  the  dinner.  A  Virginian  put  her  chop-sticks 
in  her  hair.  On  the  other  side  of  me  sat  a  charming  Japanese  girl. 
Japanese  girls  do  not  dine  out  and  she  was  the  only  one  we  had 
met.  Her  mother  was  a  lady  of  high  position  and  with  very  ad- 
vanced ideas.  Because  of  them  she  had  been  subject  to  much 
criticism  by  her  countrymen.  When  her  critics  heard  of  the 
unwonted  presence  of  her  daughter  at  our  dinner  party  together 
with  the  indecent  feat  of  one  of  the  guests,  did  they  not  exclaim, 
I  wonder,  "This  shows  what  will  happen  if  we  let  girls  go  out  in 
the  American  fashion ;  they  will  begin  to  put  their  hashi  in  their 
hair!" 

8 


n4  Fear  and  Conventionality 

the  backing  of  the  Church  or  even  at  times  in  the 
face  of  the  Church  because  it  is  such  an  adequate 
satisfaction  of  the  gregarious  instinct,  a  satisfac- 
tion both  ample  and  safe.  Without  any  personal 
communication  the  audience  has  endless  oppor- 
tunities to  feel  the  same  emotion  and  in  its  laughter 
or  applause,  in  its  hissing  or  cat-calling,  to  express 
it  unanimously. 

In  games  we  find  the  gregarious  instinct  again 
expressing  itself,  notably  and  directly  in  games 
based  on  co-operation,  but  also  in  games  of  com- 
petition. In  both  its  types  the  game  encourages 
association  and  diverts  attention  away  from  the 
personalities  engaged  in  it  to  itself. 

But  of  all  forms  of  gregariousness,  eating  or 
drinking  together  is  by  far  the  commonest  and 
most  ubiquitous.  Few  entertainments  are  com- 
plete without  "refreshments,"  and  very  often  the 
refection  constitutes  the  whole  entertainment. 
During  the  feast  or  drinking  bout  no  distractions 
are  provided;  even  conversation  maj^-  be  bad  form. 
The  Japanese  and  other  Orientals  eat  in  silence. 
When  silence  is  not  expected  of  diners-out,  the 
talk  itself  may  be  subject  to  restrictions.  *' No- 
thing should  be  said  which  can  hurt  any  one's 
feelings,  "  states  the  writer  of  Manners  and  Social 
Usages,  adding  that  "politics,  religion,  and  the 


Entertaining  115 

stock  market"  are  generally  ruled  out.**^  The 
proscription  of  these  particular  topics  of  conversa- 
tion is  not  common  enough,  perhaps,  for  reasons 
already  noted,  to  warrant  this  observation ;  but  it  is 
quite  true  .that  the  range  of  conversation  is  nar- 
rower at  the  dinner  table  than  elsewhere.  On  the 
other  hand  conversation  of  some  kind  there  must 
be.  A  silence  is  felt  to  be  very  embarrassing,  and 
the  success  of  a  dinner  is  judged  of  ''by  the  manner 
in  which  conversation  has  been  sustained.  If  it 
has  flagged  often,  it  is  considered  a  proof  that  the 
guests  have  not  been  congenial;  but  if  a  steady 
stream  of  talk  has  been  kept  up,  it  shows  that 
they  have  smoothly  amalgamated  as  a  whole.  "^^ 
Many  details  of  conduct  besides  sustaining 
conversation  or  conversing  on  appropriate  topics 
go  to  make  up  table  manners.  Given  the  close 
contacts  a  common  meal  involves,  an  elaborate 
ceremonial  is  to  be  expected.  For  much  of  its 
detail  as  well  as  for  the  great  stress  laid  upon  its 
observance  I  m.ust  refer  the  reader  to  more  sys- 
tematic books  on  etiquette — unless  he  is  enterpris- 
ing enough  to  analyse  his  own  experiences.  As  to 
the  ceremonial  of  feasting  in  general  we  may 
observe  that  as  in  other  forms  of  gregariousness 
caste,  age,  and  sex  receive  much  consideration. 
Kings,  we  have  noted,  do  not  eat  with  commoners, 


Ii6  Fear  and  Conventionality 

nor  servants  with  their  masters.  But  even  slighter 
distinctions  in  social  position  are  recognized  at 
dinners.  In  this  country  they  are  recognized 
most  obviously,  perhaps,  in  Washington.  Here  a 
Cabinet  Minister  walks  out  to  dinner  before  a 
Senator;  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  sits  on 
the  right  of  the  hostess  unless  the  presence  of  an 
Ambassador  has  compelled  a  move  to  the  left; 
it  is  the  wife  of  the  Representative  who  has  served 
longest  who  has  to  make  the  "  first  move  to  go  "  after 
dinner.  Outside  of  the  Capital  these  particular 
distinctions  are  comparatively  ignored  and  pluto- 
cratic distinctions  are  more  to  the  fore,  not  con- 
spicuously, however,  for  the  simple  reason  that  in 
many  circles  hostesses  are  inclined  not  to  "mix" 
people  at  dinner.  Dinner  guests,  they  hold, 
* '  should  be  of  the  same  standing. " '  *  "  They  need 
not  necessarily  be  friends,  or  even  acquaintances; 
but,  as  at  a  dinner  people  come  into  closer  contact 
than  at  any  other  kind  of  a  party,  those  only 
should  be  invited  to  meet  one  another  who  move 
in  the  same  class  or  circles."  ''^  Within  my  memory 
in  New  York  City  the  fashionable  and  unfashion- 
able were  rarely  if  ever  invited  to  dine  together. 

Nor  at  one  time  were  the  young  and  the  old.* 
When  debutantes  and  "married  people"  did  begin 

*  See  Chapter  XV.  for  the  grouping  at  table  by  age-class. 


Entertaining  117 

to  dine  together,  age  took  precedence.  "In  pro- 
ceeding from  the  drawing-room  to  the  dining-room, 
the  younger  fall  back  until  the  older  have  ad- 
vanced. "^°  Dinner  announced,  "stand  back  for 
all  the  married  dames  to  pass  out  before  you,** 
writes  the  Young  Lady's  Friend,  "and  if  a  gentle- 
man, wishing  to  escort  you,  at  tempts  to  lead  you 
out  before  them,  draw  back,  and  do  not  let 
him.****  At  table,  the  Friend  continues,  "try  to 
seat  yourself  among  the  least  important  portion 
of  the  company.""  As  for  the  seating  of  seniors 
at  table,  "a  host  waits  upon  the  oldest  lady,"* 
and  the  hostess  is  escorted  by  the  eldest  gentle- 
man. ^^ 

The  relations  between  the  sexes  are  carefully 
regulated  at  dinners,  when  they  dine  together  at 
all.  In  many  communities  the  principle  under- 
lying "stag**  dinners  and  ladies'  luncheons  is 
unbroken,  men  and  women  either  eating  in  dif- 
ferent places  or  the  women  eating  after  the  men. 
A  Uripivf  Islander  who  eats  with  a  woman  runs 
the  risk  of  a  mysterious  death.*'*  A  New  York 
man  I  know  tells  me  that  in  a  "business  men*s 
restaurant*'  he  always  avoids  a  table  where  women 
are  sitting,  and  yet  this  same  man  is  not  at  all 

♦  Or,  let  us  note,  upon  "the  greatest  stranger." 
t  New  Hebrides. 


Il8  Fear  and  Conventionality 

averse,  in  the  evening,  to  commensality.  Is  it 
because  at  mixed  dinners  he  has  little  or  no  option 
about  his  relations  to  the  sex?  At  mixed  dinners 
men  have  to  take  the  women  out  and  the  sexes 
alternate  at  the  table,*  unless  a  hostess  wishes  to 
display  the  fact  that  she  has  at  command  more 
than  enough  men  to  go  round.  But  men  do  not  like 
to  sit  next  to  men  at  dinner,  even  to  gratify  the  van- 
ity of  their  hostess.  Women  are  even  more  averse 
to  sitting  next  to  women.  It  is  only  after  dinner 
that  such  an  alignment  of  the  sexes  is  acceptable, 
and  then  only  for  a  short  period.  Not  to  have  a 
man  come  up  to  talk  to  her  after  the  men  have 
come  in  from  the  smoking-room  is  embarrassing  to 
a  lady. 

*That  they  are  expected  to  talk  first  on  one  side  and  then  the 
other,  as  the  table  "turns,"  we  may  note  as  another  provision 
of  the  ceremonial  conversation  of  the  feast. 


XII 

BETWEEN  THE  SEXES 

SEX  is  one  of  the  two*  greatest  sources  of  dif- 
ference between  its  members  society  has  to 
apprehend.  It  deals  with  the  disturbing  factor  in 
its  characteristicall}'-  simple,  unconscious  way.  It 
separates  men  and  women  as  much  as  possible,  or 
when  because  of  passion  or  of  economic  necessity 
or  convenience  actual  separation  is  impossible  or 
difficult,  it  raises  barriers  between  them. 

In  every  society  the  separation  of  the  sexes  is 
more  or  less  thoroughly  marked.  No  Vedda  may 
come  in  contact  with  any  women  of  his  own  age  ex- 
cept his  wife, '  a  restriction  observed  in  many  savage 
tribes,  t     **  Male  and  female  should  not  sit  together 

*  Age,  of  course,  is  the  other.     See  pp.  176  flf. 

t  The  proprieties  of  the  haremUk  may  be  observed  even  in  a 
communal  cave.  In  a  Vedda  cave  dwelUng  "the  woman  may 
always  be  seen  at  exactly  the  same  spot,  and  when  the  men  come 
in  they  sit  or  lie  beside  their  wives,  keeping  to  that  part  of  the 
cave  floor  that  belongs  to  them  as  carefully  as  though  there 
was  a  partition  dividing  it  from  that  of  their  neighbours." 
(Seligmann,    The  Veddas,  p.  86.) 

119 


I20  Fear  and  Conventionalit>* 

in  the  same  apartment,  nor  have  the  same  stand 
or  rack  for  their  clothes,  nor  use  the  same  towel  or 
comb,  nor  let  their  hands  touch  in  giving  and  re- 
ceiving,*' prescribes  the  Li  Kt.  *  In  Corea  the  mere 
touch  of  a  strange  man  has  caused  a  father,  it  is 
said,  to  kill  his  daughter,  or  a  wife  to  kill  herself.  ^ 
Out-of-doors  a  Miridite  girl  of  Albania  speaks  to  a 
man  unrelated  to  her  at  the  risk  of  losing  her 
reputation, -*  a  calamity  few  girls  care  to  survive. 
Dobrizhoffer  relates  that  one  day  after  his  arrival 
in  Paraguay  he  played  in  the  road  on  the  flute. 
The  girls  gathered  to  listen;  but  as  soon  as  the 
youths  came  up  the  girls,  every  one,  disappeared,  s 
The  English  girl  of  the  fifteenth  century  was  put 
on  her  guard  in  rhyme : 

**  Aqweynte  thee  not  with  eche  man  that  gooth  bi  the 
strata ; 
Though  ony  man  spake  to  thee,  Swiftli  thou  him 

grata 
Lata  him  go  bi  the  way :  bi  him  that  thou  ne  stonde.  "^ 

In  the  United  States  to-day  a  mother  sometimes 
tells  her  daughter  not  to  speak  to  any  strange  man 
in  the  street — except  a  policeman ;  and  it  was  once 
thought  bad  form  for  a  girl  to  go  "buggy-nding** 
with  a  man  or  in  town  to  be  seen  with  one  in  a  cab. 
Only  a  few  years  ago  a  New  York  girl  told  me  that 
having  to  drive  home  late  in  the  evening  in  a 


Bet-ween  tHe  Sexes  12 1 

"strange*'  cab  and  without,  a  chaperone,  she  re- 
quired her  escort  to  sit  on  the  box  with  the  driver. 
There  are  in  most  communities  certain  places 
assigned  to  one  sex  into  which  the  other  may  not 
venture,  or  venture  only  at  their  peril.  No  Aeneze 
of  good  reputation  would  sit  down  in  that  comer 
of  the  women's  part  of  the  tent  called  the  roffe, 
*'Your  sitting  place  is  the  rofe,''  is  said  to  a  man 
you  despise.  "^  Corean  boys  were  taught  that  it  was 
shameful  to  set  foot  at  all  in  the  women's  part  of 
the  house,  and  in  Seoul  men  breaking  the  law 
requiring  them  to  leave  the  streets  to  the  women 
from  eight  p.m.  to  one  a.m.  were  severely  pun- 
ished.* A  New  Guinea  woman  found  anywhere 
near  the  place  where  the  feast  of  the  sacred  bull- 
roarer  is  being  celebrated  is  taken  and  put  at  the 
disposition  of  the  assembled  men. '  New  Hebrides 
men  also  violate  women  who  eavesdrop  around 
the  club  house  of  their  secret  society.'**  London 
or  New  York  clubmen  are  likely  to  make  "insult- 
ing remarks,"  I  am  told,  about  women  who  even 
look  into  their  club  windows.  A  man  who  ad- 
dresses a  girls'  school  or  joins  a  ladies'  sewing  circle 
is  expected  to  feel  discomposed.  "How  do  you 
like  being  the  only  man?"  he  is  asked. 

i^The  sexes  are  apt  to  be  separated  in  their 
economic  pursuits,  in  their  pastimes,  and  in  their 


122  Fear  and  Conventionality 

social  interests  and  activities  in  general.  In 
North-western  Siam  iron  is  worked  only  by  the 
women  and  they  only  pole  the  boats."  Nagas 
who  touch  women's  weaving  or  pottery  tools  are 
pimished.'*  Among  the  Akikuyu  only  the  men 
herd  the  goats.  The  long  distance  carries  of  fire- 
wood are  made  only  by  the  women  and  of  a  big 
load  men  say,  "This  is  a  very  heavy  load,  it  is  fit 
to  be  carried  by  a  woman,  not  by  a  man."'^  In 
Uganda  hunting  is  an  activity  improper  for  a 
woman,  more  improper  here  even  than  in  other 
countries.  A  woman  who  kills  any  animal  or 
catches  them  for  others  to  kill  is  considered  unfit 
for  society. '  '*  Reading  as  well  as  hunting  has  been 
taboo  to  women.  "Some  Stoicks  indeed  there  are 
who  will  not  allow  any  Books  to  Womankind," 
writes  a  sixteenth-century  EngHshman. '  ^  Coryat, 
the  seventeenth-century  English  traveller,  records 
that  until  he  went  to  Venice  he  had  never  seen 
women  on  the  stage,  and  even  in  Venice  there  were 
no  women  in  the  audience  except  courtesans,  and 
they  sat  apart  and  wore  masks. '^  "It  is  not 
coml^^e  for  a  woman  to  practise  feates  of  armes, 
ridinge,  playing  at  tenise,*  wrasthng,  and  manye 

*  Fashions  at  least  change.  Not  long  ago  I  heard  that  great 
evangelist  of  our  day,  Billy  Sunday,  declare  that  tennis  was  not 
to  his  liking,  it  was  "too  girlified."    To  that  description  one  of 


Bet-ween  tHe  Sexes  123 

other  thynges  that  beelonge  to  men,  '*  asserted  one 
of  the  sixteenth-century  coiirtiers  of  Urbino.'^ 
*'I  beleve  musicke,"  he  also  says,  "together  with 
many  other  Vanities  is  mete  for  women,  .  .  .  but 
not  for  men  that  be  men  in  dede.'*'*  In  Central 
Australia  a  man  is  not  allowed  to  attend  the 
memorial  death  service  of  a  woman. '*  A  Massim 
woman  may  not  enter  or  even  approach  the 
bolabola  or  circle  of  stones  where  the  men  sit  to 
talk.'**  In  the  fifteenth  century  the  English  youth 
was  cautioned  to  be  reticent  in  the  presence  of 
ladies. 

"  In  chambur  among  ladyes  bryghth 
Kepe  thy  tonge  and  spende  thy  syghth.'*'* 

"Outside  affairs  should  not  be  talked  of  mside  the 
threshold  of  the  women's  apartments,  nor  inside  or 
women's  affairs  outside  it,  "^*  prescribes  the  Lt  Kt. 
Furthermore,  "Male  and  female,  without  the  in- 
tervention of  the  matchmaker,  do  not  know  each 
other's  name."*^ 

Separation  of  the  sexes  is  also  assured  through 
other  forms  of  social  separation.  Social  barriers 
based  on  differences  in  age,  in  culture  and  religion, 
in  economic  or  political  class,  in  kinship  and  race, 

his  followers,  a  tennis  devotee,  audibly  demurred.  "I  know," 
said  the  preacher,  "Rody  plays  tennis  and  he's  no  sissie." 


124  Fear  and  Conventionality 

all  figure  in  exaggerated  form  the  moment  sex 
itself  figures.  The  merest  glance  at  marriage 
restrictions  shows  this  condition.  Even  when 
marriage  within  one's  own  age-class  is  not  required 
by  law  or  custom,  how  misled  is  the  girl  who 
marries  an  old  man,*  how  ludicrous  the  young  man 
who  falls  in  love  with  an  old  woman.  With  any 
married  woman  who  is  his  junior,  an  Andaman- 
ese  is  forbidden  direct  communication.^''  Unless 
a  woman  unrelated  to  him  is  **very  much  his 
senior,"  an  American  is  advised  by  at  least  one 
writer  on  etiquette  not  to  offer  her  valuable 
presents.*^  In  fact  so  efficient  a  barrier  between 
the  sexes  does  a  difference  in  age  appear  that 
among  simple  people  it  is  sometimes  simulated  as 
a  device  for  separation.  Masai  warriors  have  to 
salute  married  women  with  ^^  Endakwenya,^^  "  O  old 
ladies!"*^  As  soon  as  one  of  our  girls  marries,  do 
not  her  male  contemporaries  think  of  her  as  much 
"older"  and  has  one  not  heard  persons  describe 
themselves  as  "an  old  married  man,"  or  "an  old 
married  woman"? 

In  parts  of  Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages  marriage 

*  Gerontocracy  and  marriage  by  purchase  (whether  the  bride 
is  bought  or  whether  she  marries  for  money)  are  factors  tending 
to  legitimatize  or  conventionalize  this  type  of  misalliance.  The 
monopoly  of  giris  by  the  Elders  may  also  force  juniors  into 
marriage  with  older  women,  aging  widows. 


BetTxreen  tKe  Sexes  125 

with  a  Jew  was  punishable  by  death,  nor  did  Jew- 
ish law  recognize  marriage  with  an  unbeliever. 
The  Moslem  has  been  forbidden  to  marry  the 
Christian ;  the  Catholic,  the  Protestant ;  the  Angli- 
can, the  Dissenter.  Caste  may  be  as  set  against 
mixed  marriages  as  religion.  In  China  actors, 
policemen,  and  boatmen  must  marry  within  their 
class.* 7  An  Aeneze  never  marries  his  daughter  to 
a  szonay  i.  e.,  a  blacksmith  or  a  saddler,*  or  to  a 
descendant  of  a  szona  family.**  Everywhere  a 
non-celibate  priesthood  tends  to  be  endogamous. 
Marriage  between  slaves  and  free  women  is  al- 
ways forbidden  and  other  sex  relations  between 
them  are  apt  to  be  more  severely  penalized  than 
illegitimate  relations  between  others.  A  Teutonic 
woman  who  had  intercourse  with  a  slave  was  Hkely 
to  be  killed.  A  Guatemalan  who  married  a  slave 
became  one.  Among  the  Hovas  of  Madagascar 
even  the  three  classes  of  slaves  do  not  intermarry. 
Roman  plebeians  and  patricians  could  not  inter- 
marry until  455  B.C.  Such  misalliances  were  pun- 
ished in  Sweden  until  the  seventeenth  century.*' 
Again  and  again  European  royalties  have  had  to 
forgo  rank  or  position  through  marrying  out  of 
their  class,  and  in  every  civilized  coimtry  marrying 

*  These  workmen  are  always  of  another  tribe,  their  occupation 
being  accounted  degrading  to  an  Aeneze. 


126  Fear  and  Conventionality 

beneath  you  involves  in  varying  degree  social  dis- 
approval or  ostracism.  There  are  few  American 
girls,  I  surmise,  who  would  at  no  time  feel  ashamed 
of  having  a  man  of  an  inferior  social  position  make 
love  to  them. 

Shame,  a  sense  of  disgrace,  of  blight,  is  also  felt 
over  the  violation  of  endogamous  rules  of  kinship 
or  of  race.  Were  a  Padam  girl  to  demean  herself 
by  marrying  out  of  her  clan,  sun  and  moon  would 
refuse  to  shine,  Dalton  was  once  assured,  and  all 
labour  would  have  to  cease  until  by  sacrifice  and 
oblation  the  stain  was  washed  away.  A  Bushman 
woman  considers  intercourse  with  any  man  not  of 
her  tribe  degrading.  The  Baralongs,  a  Bechuana 
tribe,  killed  any  of  their  women  intimate  with 
a  European.  3 «  In  sections  of  the  United  States 
marriage  between  whites  and  blacks  has  been 
prohibited.  On  the  steamer  on  which  I  once 
travelled  with  a  Congressional  party  to  the  Philip- 
pines were  a  bride  and  groom,  she  a  New  Eng- 
lander  and  he  a  Filipino,  a  graduate  of  Harvard 
University  and  the  son  of  a  prominent  Mestizo 
Judge  in  Manila.  This  bridal  pair  the  members  of 
our  party,  with  but  few  exceptions,  were  not  will- 
ing to  meet,  and  later  in  Manila  I  learned  that  the 
members  of  the  American  Army  and  Navy  Club 
were   resolved   to   ostracize   the  young  woman. 


Bet-ween  tKe  Sexes  127 

"We'll  teach  her,"  they  said,  **an  American  girl 
can't  marry  a  Filipino. " 

Marriage  aside,  racial  shyness  or  distrust  is 
notably  exaggerated  by  a  difference  of  sex.  In 
those  parts  of  Borneo  where  it  was  believed  that 
the  sight  of  a  white  man  caused  illness,  the  men 
warned  their  wives  not  to  approach  the  European 
traveller.^*  The  headman  of  a  New  Guinea 
pygmy  village  resisted  a  bribe  of  three  shining 
axes,  writes  Wollaston,  to  let  his  English  visitors 
have  merely  a  sight  of  the  village  women,  hidden 
away  in  the  jungle.  ^"^  The  Veddas  do  not  allow 
visitors  of  any  race  to  see  their  women.  Even 
pedlars  may  not  approach  nearer  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  of  their  caves.  ^^  During  a  British  in- 
spection trip  on  the  Burmese  Chinese  boundary,  a 
Kakhyen  chief  was  told  that  the  officials  were 
going  to  sleep  in  his  house.  Although  resentful  of 
the  intrusion,  all  the  chief  asked  for  was  time  to 
get  the  women  out  of  the  way.^'*  Burckhardt 
relates  that  the  Bedouin  women  he  met  on  the 
road  would  often  ask  him  for  flour  or  biscuit, 
but  that  they  would  never  take  it  out  of  his 
hands.  He  had  to  set  it  down  on  the  ground, 
behind  their  backs,  and  then  withdraw  from 
them  a  few  paces.  ^^  In  the  South  and  South- 
West  I  have  foimd  American  women  afraid  to 


128  Fear  and  Conventionality 

go  walking  alone  on  the  chance  of  meeting  a  negro 
or  a  Mexican. 

But  in  addition  to  taboos  of  physical  separation 
or  of  exclusiveness,  taboos  of  the  imagination  are 
relied  upon  in  separating  the  sexes, — conceptions 
of  the  psychic  or  magical  dangers  of  infidelity, 
of  the  magical  nature  of  chastity  and  its  irre- 
trievability,  of  the  impurity  of  sexual  intimacy, 
and  of  the  evil  intrinsic  in  passion.  An  Aleut 
woman  believes  that  were  she  unfaithful  to  her 
husband  when  he  went  hunting  he  would  get  no 
game.  ^^  The  wife  of  the  Kayan  camphor  collector 
believes  that  her  infidelity  would  cause  the  trees 
to  be  empty  of  camphor.  ^^  Elsewhere  wives  be- 
lieve too  that  infidelity  brings  a  husband  disaster 
of  a  magical  kind  called  dishonour.  An  unchaste 
sister  as  well  as  a  faithless  wife  can  spoil  an  Aleut's 
hunt.  Chastity  in  many  another  tribe  has  magical 
potentialities.  In  the  historical  religions  it  is  a 
factor  in  the  working  of  miracles.  ^^  Complemen- 
tary to  this  view  of  chastity  as  an  instrument  for 
magic  is  the  notion  that  like  any  other  instrument 
it  can  be  lost  and  lost  once  and  for  all,  particularly 
in  the  case  of  women.  "In  women  honestye  once 
stained  dothe  never  retoume  again  to  the  former 
estate"^'— not  even  through  marriage.  To  Paul, 
to  Buddha,  and  to  many  another  religious  devotee 


Beti^een  tKe  Sexes  129 

passion  even  in  marriage  is  more  than  question- 
able. "Let  none  imagine  that  we  approve  of  sex- 
ual intercourse  except  for  procreation!"  exclaims 
Father  Jerome.  ^°  After  conception,  give  to  mar- 
riage "the  sanctity  of  virginity,"  exhorts  Mother 
Eddy.  4^ 

The  belief  that  feminine  weakness  or  inferiority 
is  infectious*  seems  to  be  back  of  some  of  these 
conceptions.  This  belief  also  accounts  for  the  very 
widespread  taboos  against  women  imposed  upon 
huntsmen  and  fishermen,  upon  magicians  and 
priests,  upon  warriors  on  the  eve  of  professional 
expeditions  or  enterprises.  From  time  to  time  one 
finds  too  that  special  precautions  are  taken  against 
catching  femininity.  Were  a  youth  of  Fraser's 
Island  to  sit  down  on  the  stool  a  girl  was  sitting  on 
or  had  sat  on,  he  believes  he  would  sicken  and  die.  '♦* 
Were  a  Maryborough  Blackfellow  woman  to  step 
over  anything  belonging  to  a  man,  he  would  throw 
it  away.  4  3  In  South  Africa  a  man  sleeping  with 
his  wife  must  be  careful  not  to  touch  her  with 
his  right  hand.  Otherwise  his  strength  as  a  war- 
rior goes  from  him,  he  believes,  and  he  will  surely 
be  killed.  44    Among  its  editorial  New  Year  wishes 

*  Male  traits  may  be  catching  too.    If  an  Australian  girl  ties 
on  a  man's  waist  band,  she  becomes  sterile.    (Spencer  &  Gillen, 
Native  Tribes,  p.  52,  n.  i.) 
9 


I30  Fear  and  Conventionality 

this  year  one  of  the  New  York  daily  papers 
wished  for  manhood  for  an  editor  of  a  review 
of  feminist  bias.  This  editorial  was  shown  to 
me  by  a  man  who  frankly  and  solemnly  said 
he  felt  his  own  manhood  would  be  imperilled 
by  any  considerable  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
women. 

The  conception  of  feminine  weakness  is  but  one 
of  the  many  generalizations  about  women  every 
society  makes.  "The  tongues  of  women  cannot 
be  governed, ** 4  5  gay  the  Makololo.  "The  love  of 
possessions  is  a  woman's  trait  and  not  a  brave's, " 
said  his  grandmother  to  the  Sioux  boy,  Hakadah, 
when  she  called  upon  him  to  offer  up  his  pet  dog  in 
sacrifice.  "*  ^  Deprecating  to  her  husband  her  failure 
to  obey  him  and  expose  their  infant  daughter,  a  wife 
in  one  of  the  plays  of  Terence  refers  to  her  way- 
wardness as  characterized  by  "a  woman's  usual 
folly  and  miserable  superstition.  "''^  In  another 
play  a  testy  husband  exclaims:  "What  a  thing  it  is 
that  all  women  are  set  on  the  same  thing  and  set 
against  the  same  thing,  and  not  one  of  them  can 
you  find  an  inch  different  from  the  bent  of  the 
rest."4« 

As  barriers  to  personal  relations  these  sex  gen- 
eralities are  most  efficient.  Hence  they  are  apt 
to  be  to  the  fore  in  the  beginning  of  an  acquain- 


Bet-ween  tKe  Sexes  131 

tanceship,*  always  a  more  or  less  formidable  time, 
or  whenever  a  personal  relation  becomes  displeas- 
ing. "Just  like  a  woman!"  ** How  like  a  man!" 
exclaims  the  irritated  man  or  woman.  And  the 
interpretation  of  motive  or  conduct  in  terms  of  sex 
is  often  a  justification  for  slackness,  an  excuse  for 
carelessness.  Because  women  are  all  the  same,  it  is 
not  worth  while  to  pay  close  attention  to  a  given 
woman.  Because  a  given  man  is  like  other  men, 
much  is  not  to  be  expected  of  him, — imless  one  is 
speaking  in  terms  of  chivalry,  when  too  much 
cannot  be  expected  of  him. 
V  Chivalry,  based,  as  we  have  noted,  on  a  general- 
ization, that  of  inborn  and  ineradicable  superiority, 
serves  like  other  generalizations  as  a  barrier  be- 
tween the  sexes,  a  particularly  strong  barrier  too. 
Good  manners  between  the  sexes  are  analogous 
barriers.  They  too  are  efficient,  almost  as  efficient 
as  avoidance  practices.  But  often  too  they  reqiiire 
avoidance.  Ainu  women  are  always  taught  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  men  on  a  path.  If  Tasmanians 
met  a  party  of  women  on  the  trail,  it  was  only 
polite  of  them  to  turn  and  go  another  way.  ■♦'  With 
us  a  man  merely  turns  out  for  a  woman.     In 

*  And  is  not  the  beginning  of  intimacy  between  a  man  and  a 
woman  apt  to  be  characterized  by  each  conceiving  that  the  other 
is  an  exception  to  his  or  her  sex? 


132  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Uganda  a  woman  may  not  hand  a  man  anything 
without  first  wrapping  it  in  a  bit  of  plantain  leaf.s® 
It  is  good  Ainu  manners  for  women  to  wait  to  be 
spoken  to  by  men,^^  just  as  under  certain  circum- 
stances it  is  polite  among  us  for  a  man  not  to  speak 
first  to  a  woman. 

Individuals  upon  whom  these  taboos  lie  heavy, 
the  womanly  woman,  the  man's  man,  are  attrac- 
tive to  the  opposite  sex,  not  only  for  elemental 
reasons,  but  because  they  are  felt  to  be  safe.  Ob- 
viously they  have  no  wish  for  assimilation,  no 
tendency  to  cross  the  self-protecting  barriers  of  sex. 
They  will  let  the  habits  of  the  other  sex  alone.* 

Fear  of  not  being  let  alone  accounts  for  the 
otherwise  strange  brutality  shown  from  time  to 
time  by  men  towards  intrusive  women.  We  have 
already  noted  how  women  trespassers  may  be 
treated.  Women  pioneers  in  law  or  medicine  or 
politicsf  have  also  in  case  after  case  been  subject 
to  injury  or  "insults."     These  "insults"  |  have 

*  To  be  let  alone  is,  I  suggest,  more  desirable  to  simple  people 
than  any  "complementary  difiference  of  character,"  the  efifect 
no  doubt  of  sex  taboos  but,'Crawley  notwithstanding,  never  their 
motive. 

t  Is  it  not  therefore  a  prime  tactical  error  for  suffragists  to 
suggest  in  any  way  that  woman  suffrage  will  compel  any  change 
in  masculine  habits  or,  for  that  matter,  in  feminine? 

t  Women,  more  conservative  than  men,  are  more  open  to 
*' insult. "    An  insult  is  an  outrage  against  one's  habits  and  is  not 


Det-ween  tHe  Seas  133 

been  for  the  most  part  of  an  obscene  nature,  for 
men  feel,  more  or  less  unconsciously,  that  women 
are  vulnerable  in  questions  of  sex,  because  in 
their  habits  of  chastity  they  in  their  turn  are  most 
loath  to  be  disturbed.  But  in  their  other  habits, 
too,  women,  like  men,  wish  to  be  protected,  and 
so  they  have  been  ever  ready  to  be  cut  off  from 
experiences  unsettling  to  habits — ^from  intercourse 
with  the  stranger  or  with  the  gods,  from  learning, 
from  travel,  from  nature.  To  almost  any  demand 
that  they  live  at  second  hand  they  have  been 
compliant.* 

Is  not  this  desire  to  be  unaffected  by  the  opposite 
sex  back  of  the  insistent  demand  to  safeguard  the 
mystery  of  sex?  You  will  destroy  the  mystery  and 
so  the  charm  of  sex,  it  is  urged,  if  you  let  women 
do  all  the  things  men  do.  Men  will  treat  women 
like  men;  they  will  forget  they  are  women.  Cupid 
unblindfolded  will  cease  to  be  Cupid  and  penitence 
will  be  the  only  lot  for  Psyche.  This  plea  for  sex 
taboos  is,  I  surmise,  the  modem  stand  of  those 

the  sense  of  "insult"  based  on  resentment  against  the  ruthless 
breaking  down  of  one's  social  barriers?  It  may  also  be  based,  I 
suggest,  on  a  still  more  primitive  sense  of  defilement.  The  injury 
is  actually  conveyed  through  a  kind  of  contagious  magic. 

*  The  tendency  to  live  at  second  hand,  through  another,  is  a 
profound  expression  of  sex,  we  are  told,  an  impulse  of  passion. 
Accepting  this  analysis,  is  not  the  problem  created  for  feminists 
far  more  baffling  than  any  they  have  hitherto  faced? 


134  Fear  and  Conventionality^ 

unwilling  to  forgo  the  protection  of  sex  barriers. 
Far  from  wishing  to  let  the  natural  differences 
of  sex  count  in  life,  they  seek  to  prescribe  differ- 
ences which  may  or  may  not  correspond  to  fact, 
but  which  because  they  are  arbitrary  may  be 
collectively  and  so  comfortably  encountered.  In 
their  great  fear  of  sex  they  endeavour  to  make  it  a 
matter  of  collective  habits,  of  dress,  of  manners,  of 
occupations,  of  pastimes,  particulars  all  subject  to 
endless  regulation.  Is  not  so  much  regulation  of  a 
"mystery'*  suspicious?  Were  we  less  afraid  of  the 
real  heterogeneities  of  sex,  would  we  not  be  less 
insistent  upon  the  differences  we  have  provoked, 
those  differences  which  are  but  blinds  for  the  real 
differences?  "This  thing  you  may  not  think  or 
do  at  all,"  says  man  to  woman  or  woman  to  man, 
"because  being  different  from  me,  your  thought 
of  it  or  your  performance  would  be  different  and 
so  disturbing.  Take  something  else  to  think  about 
or  pursue,  something  not  in  my  line.  Keep  out 
of  my  way  as  much  as  you  can  and  I  will  keep  out 
of  yours.  Whatever  happens,  let  us  not  interfere 
with  each  other.  Nothing  else  is  quite  as  impor- 
tant to  our  comfort.'*/  Until  comparatively  lately 
this  principle  of  non-interference  has  worked  out 
well  enough  in  economy* ;  in  matters  of  passion  it 
*  Perhaps  because  the  economic  differentiation  of  the  sexes 


Beti^een  tHe  Seas  135 

has  always  been  less  of  a  success.  Hence  sex  in  its 
passionate  manifestations  has  been  subjected  to 
endless  regulation,  regulation  made  rigid  by  the 
great  fear  of  sex  itself  and  complicated  by  all  the 
other  fears  of  unlike  for  unlike.  Of  this  system  of 
regulation  we  shall  get  the  most  comprehensive 
view  through  a  consideration  of  marriage,  ever 
society's  mainstay  in  controlling  the  wayward- 
ness of  sex,  its  vagrant  and  vehement  impulses, 
its  untoward  and  violent  outbreaks,  its  blindness 
to  the  interests  of  others,  its  arrogances  unsur- 
passed. 

sets  in  at  an  early  age,  at  a  non-questioning,  imitative  time  of 
life.  When  it  starts  later  in  life,  as  it  tends  to  nowadays  with  us, 
it  is  more  likely  to  be  challenged.  Similarly  it  is  more  likely  to  be 
questioned  in  business  or  in  the  professions  than  in  more  imitative 
pursuits  like  farming  or  housework. 


XIII 

MARRIAGE 

IV/lAKING  a  manage  de  convenances  its  em- 
"^  "  ^  barrassments,  and  the  distress  incident  to 
it  are  ever  favotirite  themes  of  the  playwrights. 
One  of  the  plays  of  Terence,  for  example,  opens 
with  an  account  of  a  young  man  torn  between  love 
and  duty,  love  for  his  mistress  and  duty  towards 
the  father  bent  on  getting  him  married.  "Pam- 
philus  was  in  love  with  Bacchis  here  every  bit  as 
much  as  ever,"  narrates  his  slave,  "when  his 
father  set  about  entreating  him  to  marry,  talking 
just  the  strain  of  all  fathers."'  Pamphilus  duti- 
fully marries  his  father's  choice,  but  in  another 
comedy  of  Terence  the  hero  succeeds  in  disen- 
gaging himself  from  the  lady  chosen  for  him  and 
in  marrying,  quite  to  his  father's  satisfaction  how- 
ever, his  own  true  love.  In  this  play,  The  Lady  of 
Andros,  it  is  the  slave  again  who  points  out  to  you 
the  situation.  "So  long  as  his  years  suited  it,'* 
says  Davus  of  his  young  master,  another  Pam- 

'  136 


Marriage  137 

philus,  "he  had  a  love-affair.  .  .  .  Now  it's  time 
he  took  a  wife,  and  to  a  wife  he  has  turned  his 
thoughts."^  Or,  as  we  might  say,  having  sown 
his  wild  oats,  the  time  had  come  for  him  to  settle 
down.  Well  it  is  if,  like  Pamphilus,  a  man  can 
marry  his  love,  the  Romans  seemed  to  think, 
and  perhaps  a  marriage  for  love  is  a  more  secure 
kind  of  marriage;  but  marry  at  any  rate  a  man 
should.  To  us  this  point  of  view  is  not  unfamiliar, 
but  to  many  other  peoples  part  of  it  at  least  is 
entirely  foreign.  By  them  is  made  little  or  no 
concession  of  personal  choice  in  marriage.  Mar- 
riages are  planned  arbitrarily  by  parents  or  kindred, 
by  the  elders,  by  an  overlord.  It  is  their  profit 
or  interest  which  is  the  determining  factor,  and  in 
making  the  match  economic  or  political  matters 
or  matters  of  family  convenience  or  congeniality 
are  in  question — girl-barter  or  bride-price  or  dowry, 
alliance  with  other  groups,  the  qualifications  of 
bride  or  bridegroom  for  fitting  into  the  joint  house- 
hold or  family  connexion  or  for  rendering  it 
personal  services.  Given  such  objects  in  marriage, 
courtship  naturally  plays  a  minor  part  or  no  part 
at  all  as  a  preliminary  to  mating.  Matrimonial 
go-betweens  or  marriage  brokers  or  amateur 
matchmakers  negotiate  its  details;  and  in  many 
communities  bride  and  bridegroom  do  not  meet 


138  Fear  and  Conventionality 

before  the  wedding  or  even  see  each  other.  Al- 
lowed to  meet,  they  may  court  each  other  only  in 
set  ways — by  formal  messages  or  declarations  of 
regard,  by  exchange  of  prescribed  presents,  by 
stated  visits,  or  by  "keeping  company"  at  ap- 
pointed times  or  places. 

Elopement  is  discountenanced  and  more  or  less 
penalized.  So  of  course  are  misalliances,  i.  e.  all 
marriages  which  violate  the  group  rules  of  marriage 
or  disregard  the  wishes  of  kindred.  Breaking  the 
ties  of  marriage  is  also  penalized  or  made  difficult. 
Divorce  is  upsetting  to  those  who  have  arranged 
the  marriage  or  to  those  who  have  come  to  as- 
sociate two  persons  together  in  thought  and  in 
practice.  It  is  because  of  the  distress  caused  by 
disassociating  persons  presumed  to  be  settled  to- 
gether once  and  for  all,  that  opposition  to  divorce 
is  even  greater  than  opposition  to  marriage  for 
love,  and  that  freedom  to  marry  is  apt  to  be  con- 
ceded long  before  freedom  to  divorce.  A  society's 
apprehensiveness  about  divorce  is  an  expression 
of  its  fear  of  change  and  of  its  resulting  desire  that 
personality  remain  unvarying. 

The  better  to  preclude  divorce  and  preserve  the 
marriage  ties,  certain  concessions,  not  to  the  de- 
mands of  personality  but  to  mere  sex  impulse,  are 
wont  to  be  made.    Professional  prostitution  may 


Marriage  139 

be  tolerated  or  encouraged  as  a  protection  to 
marriage,  and  even  adultery  at  large,  if  it  is 
covert,  may  be  glossed  over.  A  mistress  is  the 
more  or  less  acknowledged  complement  to  a  wife, 
more  rarely  a  cicisheo  to  a  husband. 

Rebels  against  this  double  system  of  marriage 
and  adultery  there  have  been, — youths  in  New 
Britain  who  have  escaped  from  under  the  coils  of 
shell-money,  thrown  over  their  heads  by  relatives 
anxious  to  lassoo  them,  as  it  were,  into  an  estab- 
lishment,^ Gotama  and  Jesus  and  their  numerous 
imitators,  Harold  Godwin  at  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  no  doubt  many  men  and 
women  of  our  own  generation.  But  as  a  rule 
conjugality  (with  or  without  adultery)  has  been 
an  acceptable  system  to  the  marrying  as  well  as 
to  their  matchmakers.  For  the  marrying  too  it 
has  such  obvious  advantages — "some  one  now 
and  then  to  yawn  with,  "*  "the  solace  of  a  home, " 
secure  from  "the  torturing  passions  of  intrigue.  '*t 

*As  Byron,  his  mind  on  matrimony,  wrote  one  day  in  his 
journal.    (Mayne,  i,  302.) 

t  In  these  terms  Disraeli  refers  to  the  motives  which  prompted 
him  to  woo  her  who  was  to  be  Lady  Beaconsfield.  Besides,  he 
adds,  in  words  highly  reminiscent  of  a  Latin  comedy,  "my  father 
had  long  wished  me  to  marry;  my  settling  in  life  was  the  implied 
.  .  .  condition  of  a  disposition  of  his  property,  which  would  have 
been  convenient  to  me."  (Moneypenny,  W.  F.  The  Life  of 
Benjamin  Disraeli^  ii,  52.    New  York,  1912.) 


I40  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Indeed  conjugality  may  preclude  the  stress  of 
courtship  altogether,  risks  and  strains  due  not 
only  to  group  exactions  or  regulations,  but  to  the 
nature  of  the  relationship  itself,  subject  as  it  is  to 
doubts  and  uncertainties,  indefinite,  ever  fluctuat- 
ing. This  unstable  relationship  is  eliminated  alto- 
gether, we  noted,  as  a  preliminary  to  marriage  or 
so  prescribed  as  to  become,  if  desired,  impersonal. 
Then  courtship  in  marriage  is  of  course  rare — out- 
side of  certain  very  modem  writers,*  writers,  too, 
who  by  their  very  suggestions  seem  to  misunder- 
stand the  purport  of  marriage.  For  is  not  ease  in 
satisfying  the  impulses  of  sex  ever  an  essential  to 
marriage?  It  is  a  provision  at  any  rate  most  forms 
of  marriage  have  in  common.  Exceptions  are  for 
the  most  part  temporary.  It  is  only  on  the  night 
of  his  wedding  that  a  Tipperah  bridegroom  has  to 
steal  into  his  bride's  house  and  slip  away  before 
dawn.  4  Among  the  Albanian  mountaineers  a 
bridegroom  takes  his  bride  to  his  father's  house, 
but  he  has  to  meet  her  in  secret  until  she  has  a 
child,  s  Then  again  among  many  peoples  con- 
jugal intercourse  during  pregnancy,  or  the  latter 
part  of  it,  or  during  the  period  of  lactation  is  taboo. 
But  even  this  taboo  is  apt  to  be  relieved  for  hus- 
bands through  polygyny.  Similarly  polygyny 
*  Havelock  ElHs,  Ellen  Key. 


Marriage  141 

removes  the  restrictions  upon  conjugality  profes- 
sional travellers  might  suffer — traders,  porters, 
sailors,  brigands. 

To  matrimonial  ease  privacy  is  a  requisite,  and 
privacy — in  physical  relations — is  ever  guaranteed 
the  married.  The  doors  of  their  apartments  need 
no  bolts.  Even  lovers  respect  conjugal  arrange- 
ments. The  ami  de  la  famille  vows  not  to  kiss 
his  mistress  in  her  husband*s  house.  Nor  is  a 
mistress  ever  expected  to  be  jealous  of  a  wife. 
The  furtiveness  of  adultery  is  prompted  not  merely 
by  fear  of  punishment.  It  may  be  an  expression 
of  conjugal  consideration,  quite  sincere,  however 
at  times  unconvincing. 

Unconvincing,  unfortunately,  for  if  the  married 
could  really  feel  assured  that  their  convenience 
would  never  suffer,  would  there  not  be  a  great 
diminution  of  matrimonial  jealousy?  Polygyny  is 
rarely  complained  of  among  frankly  polygynous 
peoples.  A  wife  will  often  ask  her  husband  to  take 
another, — a  companion  to  lighten  her  burdens, — 
or  like  Sarah  or  Leah  she  will  herself  give  him  a 
handmaid.  Similarly  the  polyandrous  Thibetans 
or  the  natives  of  Malabar  do  not  mind  sharing 
their  wife  with  a  brother  by  blood  or  with  a 
brother  Brahman.  Nor  do  we  hear  anything  of 
complaining  husbands  among  the  Hassinyeh  Arabs 


142  Fear  and  Conventionality 

who  marry  only  for  a  stated  part  of  the  week,* 
or  among  those  ancient  polyandrous  Arabs  who 
visited  their  wives  from  time  to  time  in  the  home 
of  their  father-in-law.  The  Massim  or  Blackfellow 
who  refused  his  wife  to  her  eriam  or  piraungaru  and 
among  many  races  the  host  who  did  not  offer  his 
to  his  guest  would  be  considered  a  very  churlish 
fellow  indeed,  one  quite  lacking  in  moral  sense. 
But  in  polygamy  the  times  and  places  of  conjugal 
intercourse  are  apt  to  be  regulated  with  care.  The 
Caribs  who  married  several  sisters  at  one  time 
lived  a  month  with  each  in  her  separate  hut.  A 
Samoan  gives  each  of  his  wives  a  round  of  three 
days.  7  A  Moslem  must  visit  each  of  his  four  legal 
wives  in  turn.  So  scrupulous  was  the  native  of 
Futa,  a  Senegal  kingdom,  that  when  one  of  his 
wives  lay  in  he  spent  the  night  appropriated  to  her 
alone  in  her  apartment.*  On  marrying  the  same 
woman  two  Aleutian  Islanders  agreed  together  in 
advance  upon  the  conditions  on  which  to  share 
her.'  When  an  Arab  left  his  staff  outside  his 
wife's  door,  a  fellow-husband  would  not  enter  the 
room,^**  an  effect  less  definitely  produced  by  a 
cane  in  an  Anglo-Saxon  hall. 

In  Arabia  a  staff  significantly  placed  is  quite  a 
sufficient  guaranty  of  freedom  from  disturbance. 
Elsewhere  marital  monopoly  has  to  be  protected 


Marriage  143 

by  measures  more  drastic  or  less  symbolic,  by  harsh 
penalties  for  adultery,  by  the  seclusion  of  wives,  or 
where  the  extreme  convenience  of  veil  or  zenana 
is  unknown,  by  the  imremitted  or  bellicose  adver- 
tisement of  marital  proprietorship.  Distinctive 
costuming,  a  distinctive  headdress  or  haircut,  a 
finger-ring  or  nose-ring,  blackened  teeth,  a  tat- 
tooed mouth,  a  title — wife  of  so-and-so  or  "the 
hissing  *  missus'  of  too  familiar  husbands" — are 
all  notices  to  intruders  to  keep  away. 

Men  as  well  as  women  are  advertised  or  adver- 
tise themselves  directly  or  incidentally  as  married 
or  immarried — a  fact  still  to  be  pointed  out  by  the 
"hominist."  Married  Coreans  wear  a  long  outer 
robe  which  it  is  forbidden  to  wear  before  mar- 
riage. ' '  They  also  put  up  the  hair  they  had  worn 
as  bachelors  in  a  queue  into  a  conical  mass  upon 
their  heads. '  ^  In  Timor-laut  a  married  man  may 
never  cut  *  his  hair. '  ^  Masai  bachelors  have  to  be 
greeted  by  married  women  with  **  Endakwenya,'* 
"O  children!'*''*  With  us  married  men  no  longer 
wear  wedding  rings  and  to  be  indicated  as  the  hus- 
band of  your  wife  is  a  sign  of  derision,  but  if  a  man 
is  married  he  is  expected  to  let  his  acquaintances 
know  it.  Otherwise  he  is  suspected  of  sinister 
purposes   and   in   some   covert  way  people   feel 

♦  Else  his  wife  will  die. 


144  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

defrauded.  Last  summer  I  heard  one  of  my  Berk- 
shire neighbours  complaining  that  his  coachman, 
a  married  man,  had  spent  several  months  with  him 
in  the  r61e  of  a  bachelor,  and  about  the  same  time 
I  learned  that  I  was  myself  a  target  of  criticism 
because  I  had  introduced  to  other  neighbours  an 
acquaintance  who  had  failed  to  at  once  proclaim 
himself  the  divorce  he  was.  How  he  was  to  have 
made  known  the  fact,  lacking  a  visible  token, 
whether  it  was  deplored  as  in  itself  lessening  his 
matrimonial  eligibility  or  whether  the  ground  for 
his  divorce  was  merely  disapproved  of  I  did  not 
learn.  He  was  divorced,  the  neighbours  ascer- 
tained, in  New  York,  "and  you  know  what  that 
means, "  they  remarked. 

We  have  already  noted  how  well  conjugal 
monopoly  may  be  guaranteed  by  magical  or  super- 
natural sanctions.  That  "infidelity"  in'husbands 
is  a  ground  for  divorce  in  New  York  or  in  other 
parts  of  the  United  States  is  usually  acclaimed  as 
an  outcome  of  Christianity — a  little  too  confidently 
maybe,  in  view  of  the  lack  of  a  like  law  in  such  a 
Christian  country  as  England.  Then,  too,  mono- 
gamy is  required  of  men— and  far  more  strictly  than 
among  us — among  savages  unmoved  by  Christian 
doctrine,  among  the  Andaman  Islanders,  the  Ved- 
das,  the  Igorot  of  Luzon,  the  Hill  Dyaks  of  Borneo. 


Marriage  145 

The  existence  of  thoroughgoing  monogamy 
among  these  peoples  suggests,  too,  that  just  as  the 
rehgious  theory  of  marriage  may  have  been  exag- 
gerated by  the  theologians,  the  proprietary  theory 
may  have  been  overworked  by  the  ethnologists. 
I  for  one  plead  guilty.  In  discussions  of  pro- 
longed widowhood  and  of  widow  immolation '  s,  so 
much  was  I  impressed  by  the  customs  as  expres- 
sions of  property  rights  in  women,*  that  I  quite 
overlooked  the  very  tenable  theory  that  the  cus- 
toms were  due  to  the  feeling  that  the  habits  of  a 
lifetime  should  not  be  broken  up  even  by  death. 
Prolonged  widowerhood  and  husband  immolation, 
infrequent  as  they  are,  must  be  explained  on  this 
theory. t   Celibacy  after  an  unsuccessful  love  affair 

*  The  economic  theory  of  widow  immolation  has  been  modified, 
if  not  transformed,  by  L^vy-Bruhl  in  accordance  with  his  general 
theory  of  "participation."  The  widow  together  with  the  other 
property  of  the  deceased  are  dispatched  to  him  because  they 
partake  of  him.  They  are  a  part  of  him.  {Les  Fonctions  Mentales 
dans  les  Societes  Inferieures,  pp.  389-94.)  Such  an  association, 
let  me  add,  is  too  painful  to  the  survivors  to  break  up.  The  par- 
ticipation theory  is  a  link  between  the  property  theory  and  the 
habit  theory  of  widow  immolation. 

t  Cp.  Religious  Chastity,  pp.  4  n.  20,  22  n.  15,  74-5.  Some  of 
the  practices  characteristic  of  the  weddings  of  the  remarrying 
and  much  of  the  sentiment  about  them  are  also,  I  venture  to 
suggest,  an  expression  of  perturbation  caused  by  upsetting  the 
"associations"  of  the  living  rather  than  of  fear  of  encroaching 
upon  the  proprietary  rights  of  the  deceased.  The  pat  marriages 
of  India  which  take  place  at  night,  the  widow-bride  leaving  her 
parents*  house  by  the  back  door  {Jb.,  p.  289);  Roman  widow 

zo 


146  Fear  and  Conventionality 

is  open  to  a  like  explanation,  although  there  are 
more  popular  ways  of  explaining  inability  to  fall  in 
love  again. 

The  economic  analysis  of  marriage  has  im- 
doubtedly  obscured  the  psychological.  To  modem 
critics  of  marriage,  marriage  as  a  form  of  property 
holding  was  too  enticingly  open  to  attack  for  its 
proprietary  features  to  escape  exaggeration.  Then 
too  one  is  led  astray  by  the  proprietary  terms  of 
conjugal  phraseology,*  terms  which  on  closer 
analysis  are  seen  to  express  a  man's  dependence 


marriages  to  which  it  was  held  indecent  to  invite  many  guests^ 
and  our  own  "quiet"  weddings  for  widows  are  all  no  doubt  in 
propitiation  of  the  living  rather  than  of  the  dead.  In  Albania  and 
in  the  New  Britain  Islands  we  find  indisputable  evidence  of  the 
sensibilities  of  the  living.  If  an  Albanian  widower  remarries 
in  what  the  relatives  of  the  dead  wife  may  consider  indecent 
haste,  they  revenge  themselves  upon  him  by  pouring  water  upon 
her  grave  in  the  belief  that  this  libation  will  cause  the  second 
wife  to  be  childless.  (Gamett,  The  Women  of  Turkey:  The  Jewish 
and  Moslem  Women,  p.  286.)  At  the  wedding  of  a  New  Britain 
widower  the  kinswomen  of  his  deceased  wife  go  "on  the  loose," 
appropriating  the  weapons  and  dress  of  the  men,  painting  red  any 
man  they  can  catch,  and  at  a  given  signal  falling  upon  the  bride- 
groom's house  and  grounds  and  destroying  everything  in  sight, 
their  right  to  this  so-called  practice  of  varagut  passing  unchallenged. 
"The  women  are  angry  on  account  of  the  first  wife,"  it  is  said. 
(Danks,  p.  292.) 

*  In  reading  recently  the  semi-autobiographical  histories  of  a 
class  of  Yale  graduates,  I  was  much  struck  by  these  seemingly 
proprietary  terms.  Wives  are  referred  to  as  "  good  "  or  "  the  best 
a  man  ever  had."  "I  couldn't  get  on  without  her,"  writes  one 
man;  "she  puts  up  with  all  my  ways, "  writes  another. 


Marriage  147 

on  his  wife  for  his  psychical  as  well  as  for  his 
strictly  material  comfort  and  well-being.  After 
all  is  it  not  in  love  of  the  habitual  rather  than  in 
love  of  property  that  marriage  is  rooted?  "The 
selection  of  a  particular  hole  to  live  in,  of  a  parti- 
cular mate,  ...  a  particular  anything,  in  short, 
out  of  a  possible  multitude,  is  a  very  wide-spread 
tendency  among  animals, "  writes  William  James. '  ^ 
"But  each  of  these  preferences  carries  with  it  an 
insensibility  to  other  opportimities  and  occasions — 
an  insensibility  which  can  only  be  described  phy- 
siologically as  an  inhibition  of  new  impulses  by  the 
habit  of  old  ones  already  formed.  The  possession 
of  homes  and  wives  of  our  own  makes  us  strangely 
insensible  to  the  charms  of  other  people.  .  .  . 
The  original  impulse  which  got  us  homes,  wives, 
.  .  .  seems  to  exhaust  itself  in  its  first  achievements 
and  to  leave  no  surplus  energy  for  reacting  on 
new  cases."  Marriage  is  the  indulgence  of  a 
habit.* 

The  conception  of  woman  as  property  greatly 
facilitates  of  course  this  indulgence.  Proprietor- 
ship enables  you  to  have  things  just  as  you  want 
them,  and  to  know  where  to  find  them.  Proprie- 
tary marriage  offers  analogous  conveniences.    Be- 

♦  "People  have  to  get  into  the  habit  of  being  married. "  {How 
to  be  Happy  though  Married,  p.  104.    New  York,  1886.) 


14B         Fear  and  Conventionality 

sides  it  thwarts  intruders,  classifying  them,  even 
with  conviction  to  themselves,  as  purloiners,  and 
it  gets  for  marital  proprietors  the  backing  of  other 
ideas  on  the  sanctity  of  property.  It  may  also  re- 
inforce the  sex  feeling  of  subjection  believed  to  be 
natural  to  woman.  Then  too  it  is  tempting  to 
treat  a  woman — or  a  man — as  a  chattel*  rather 
than  as  a  personality;  it  disposes  of  her — or  him — 
with  so  little  effort.  It  serves  as  a  comfortable 
stop-gap  for  a  more  exacting  relationship.  For 
such  reasons  even  relations  outside  of  marriage  are 
apt  to  take  on  a  proprietary  character.  Pericles 
is  said'^  to  have  kissed  Aspasia  as  habitually  as 
the  American  husband  who  even  kisses  his  wife 
in  the  railway  station.  What  fiercer  demonstra- 
tions of  conjugal  proprietorship  have  ever  been 
seen  than  those  sometimes  incident  to  the  "free 
unions"  of  European  cities,  in  such  a  union  for 
example  as  that  described  in  Les  Hannetons? 
''You  must  not  look  at  anybody's  wife  except  your 
neighbour's, — if  you  go  to  the  next  door  but  one, 
you  are  scolded,  and  presumed  to  be  perfidious," 
writes  Lord  Byron,  weary  of  his  r61e  of  cicisheo, 
"And  then  a  relazione  .  .  .  seems  to  be  a  regular 

*  Or  as  a  business  partner.  Economic  reciprocity  is  as  impor- 
tant an  economic  factor  in  marriage,  let  its  critics  admit,  as 
proprietorship. 


Marriage  149 

affair  of  from  five  to  fifteen  years,  at  which  period, 
if  there  occur  a  widowhood,  it  finishes  by  a 
sposalizio;  and  in  the  meantime  it  has  so  many 
rules  of  its  own,  that  it  is  not  much  better.  A  man 
actually  becomes  a  piece  of  female  property."'* 
Since  proprietorship  is  so  effectual  a  barrier  to 
a  personal  relationship,  the  very  form  of  it  in 
marriage  is  sometimes  cherished  assiduously,  in 
the  United  States  for  example,  even  after  the 
substance  of  it  has  passed  away.  Hence  the 
representative  character  attaching  to  husbands  in 
the  old  common  law  still  figures  in  anti-suffrage 
argument.  Hence,  although  the  one  flesh  theory 
of  Paulean  theology  is  no  longer  preached  upon 
seriously  from  the  pulpit,  the  sentiment  that  a 
wife's  place  is  by  her  husband's  side  is  still  effective 
in  certain  circles,  the  circle  in  which  Mrs.  Smith 
refers  with  pride  to  the  fact  that  she  has  been 
never  a  night  away  from  Mr.  Smith  since  their 
marriage,  or  if  from  no  choice  of  her  own  away,  a 
day  never  passes  without  a  letter  to  him,  a  spirit 
Mr.  Smith  may  or  may  not  thoroughly  enjoy,  al- 
though he  usually  shares  in  it  through  his  own 
jocose  references  to  his  "better-half."* 

*  Is  it  because  in  one  flesh  no  adaptations  are  necessary  that 
this  type  of  conjugal  joke  continues  to  be  so  reassuring  and 
comforting?    In  general  the  conjugal  joke  owes  its  popularity,  I 


150         Fear  and  Conventionality 

As  mere  conjugal  barriers,  these  relics  of  the 
early  church  and  of  the  English  common  law  are 
not  readily  forgone.  There  are  of  course  alterna- 
tives. A  conjugal  absence,  for  example,  may  be 
ignored.  If  a  Fijian  husband  address  the  morning 
salutation  he  makes  to  others  to  his  wife,  she  is 
likely  to  take  it  for  a  divorce. ''  No  matter  how 
long  the  Ainu  husband  has  been  away  from  home, 
he  does  not  greet  his  wife  on  his  return.  ^°  It  is  the 
practice  of  the  Albanian  wife  to  hide  ceremonially 
when  her  travelsome  husband  goes  and  comes.*' 
''After  a  long  absence  I  have  seen  natives,"  writes 
Eyre  of  the  Blackfellows,  "never  take  the  least 
notice  of  their  wives,  but  sit  down,  and  act,  and 
look,  as  if  they  had  never  been  out  of  the  en- 
campment; in  fact,  if  anything,  they  are  more 
taciturn  and  reserved  than  usual,  and  some  little 
time  elapses  before  they  enter  into  conversation 
with  freedom,  or  in  their  ordinary  manner. "  ** 

Taking  notice  of  a  spouse  at  any  time  is  apt  to 
be  discountenanced.  Among  the  Andamanese 
remarks  on  his  or  her  personal  appearance  or 
peculiarities  are  resented  as  indelicate.*^    A  Mos- 

fancy,  to  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  your  relation  is  imper- 
sonal, a  relation  of  status,  just  as,  if  less  humorous,  you  exclaim, 
"Isn't  that  just  like  a  husband!"  in  order  to  indulge  in  the 
soothing  feeling  of  being  one  of  many. 


Marriage  151 

quito  Indian  woman  considers  it  improper  to  dis- 
play emotion  under  any  circumstances  about  her 
husband.^"  An  Anglo-Saxon  woman  is  supposed 
not  to  laugh  at  her  husband's  jokes  or  publicly 
applaud  his  speech,  A  Mandingo  of  Senegambia 
never  jokes  with  his  wives,  deeming  it  incompati- 
ble with  marital  authority.  If  he  laughed  with 
them,  a  tribesman  once  explained,  they  would 
laugh  at  him.=*5 

Then  too  intimate  conjugal  relations  may  be 
confined  to  set  times  and  places.  Spontaneity  may 
go  from  them  to  such  an  extent  that  outside  of  a 
given  room  or  a  given  forest,  at  a  given  hour,  they 
are  unthought  of.  In  Fiji  husbands  and  wives  have 
to  meet  '*from  motives  of  delicacy"  in  the  forest, 
a  rendezvous  kept  in  West  Africa  at  the  risk  of 
slavery.  There  anyone  discovering  a  couple 
making  love  out  of  doors  could  enslave  them.^^ 
Among  the  Massim  connexion  never  takes  place  in- 
doors or  at  night  but  in  the  gardens  and  by  day.*^ 
At  Santa  Marta,  Colombia,  the  married  also  keep 
apart  from  each  other  at  night,** — in  the  belief 
that  a  child  conceived  at  night  will  be  bom  blind.* 
In  civilization  too  intimacy  is  apt  to  be  localized 

•Obviously  an  expression  of  sympathetic  magic.  Such  an 
idea  may  suggest  a  habit  or  be  itself  suggested  by  habit.  The 
outcome  is  the  same — the  stereotyping  of  a  relationship. 


152  Fear  and  Conventionality 

or  concentrated,  as  strictly  perhaps  in  marriage 
as  in  prostitution. 

By  this  concentration  all  the  psychical  activities 
of  sex  are  naturally  affected.  Uncalled  for,  they 
flag  and  dwindle,  and  the  relation  between  husband 
and  wife  becomes  as  imthrilled  by  the  radiations  of 
sex  as  if  both  were  of  the  same  sex.  Under  these 
circumstances  they  may  have  in  fact  less  in  com- 
mon than  if  they  were  of  the  same  sex,  for  the 
usual  sex  barriers  may  assert  themselves,  leaving 
each  indifferent  to  many  of  the  feelings  or  ideas 
of  the  other,  arousing  in  both  a  reluctance  or  shy- 
ness about  referring  to  certain  topics*  or  a  dis- 
inclination to  listen  to  each  other  or  even  look 
at  each  other — a.  kind  of  conjugal  deafness  or 
myopia.f 

Complete  mutual  obliviousness  in  getting  used 
to  each  other  is  impracticable.  Marriage  like 
other  set  forms  of  social  intercourse  is  expected 
to  satisfy  the  instinct  for  companionship.     Hence 

*"  Should  a  wife  talk  familiarly  with  her  husband  about 
religious  matters?"  asks  Mrs.  Graves  in  one  of  her  Twenty-five 
Letters  to  a  Young  Lady  (pp.  31-2.  Chicago  &  New  York,  1884), 
She  should,  answers  the  author  quite  positively,  adding, "true, 
if  he  is  an  unbeliever,  it  may  be  distasteful." 

t  Such  shortsightedness  appears  not  to  set  in  for  three  years  of 
marriage  among  the  Filta,  for  not  until  that  time  has  elapsed 
do  wives  permit  their  husbands  to  see  them  unveiled.  (Astley, 
ii,  240.) 


Marriage  153 

common  interests  in  marriage  are  said  to  be  most 
desirable — children,  common  acquaintances,  a 
more  or  less  common  material  equipment,  the 
same  household  appointments,  and,  sometimes, 
even  the  same  pursuits  or  pastimes.  On  the  other 
hand  childlessness,  different  friends,  different 
tastes  in  expenditure,  different  "pleasures,"  ab- 
sence, are  all  well  recognized  drawbacks  to  con- 
jugality. To  have  nothing  in  common  is  a  popular 
justification,  if  not  a  legal  cause,  for  divorce. 
Whereas  if  you  do  things  together,  if  you  are 
interested  in  the  same  things,  the  need  for  divorce 
is  not  at  all  likely  to  arise,  we  are  told. 

But  whether  divorce  occur  or  not,  marriage 
appears  to  accomplish  what  is  expected  of  it, 
only  in  some  cases  it  is  for  a  season,  in  others  for  a 
lifetime.  Like  other  important  social  institutions 
it  provides  companionship  immune  to  the  in- 
fluences of  personality.  Moreover  it  eliminates 
the  extraordinary  fears  with  which  passionate  con- 
tact with  another  personality  is  beset.  It  gives 
safety  to  passion,  formalizing  and  limiting  its  de- 
mands. Then  too  it  serves  as  a  barrier  not  only 
against  one  person  of  the  opposite  sex  but  against 
a  whole  sex.  By  advertising  the  need  of  restrict- 
ing the  impulses  of  sex  to  a  minimum  it  helps 
actually  to   restrict   them.     Moreover  by  fully 


154  Fear  and  Conventionality 

satisfying  those  impulses  of  sex  which  most  readily 
become  a  habit,  the  physical  imptilses,  it  curbs  and 
dwarfs  the  impulses  which  are  erratic  and  which 
are  prone  to  upset  habits,  the  habits  of  self  and  of 
others.  Truly  marriage  is  all  its  most  ardent 
supporters  believe.  It  is  an  incomparable  pro- 
tection to  society — as  society  has  been  constituted. 


XIV 

IN  THE  FAMILY 

AS  the  closest  of  relations  between  unlike  per- 
sons and  therefore  the  most  to  be  appre- 
hended, matrimony  is  of  them  all  the  most 
carefully  regulated.  But  other  relations  between  the 
unUke  are  also  close  enough  in  family  life  to  arouse 
apprehension  and  suggest  regulation.  Perhaps  the 
most  general  expression  of  this  apprehension  along 
the  line  of  sex  consists  of  incest  rules.  The  for- 
bidden degrees  vary,  covering,  sometimes,  as  we 
have  noted,  a  clan  or  a  tribe;  but  the  aversion  to 
marriage  with  housemates  is  generally  so  marked, 
even  when  housemates  belong  to  different  clans, 
that  it  has  been  held  that  clan  exogamy  itself 
originated  in  this  aversion.*  The  supporters  of 
this  housemate  theory  of  exogamy  generally  point 

*  Westermarck,  Human  Marriage,  pp.  324-31.  Cp.  Smith,  p. 
170.  The  division  of  the  group  into  two  exogamous  moities  and 
the  subdivisions  of  these  moities  were  provisions  against  the 
mating  of  brothers  and  sisters,  parents  and  offspring,  simple 
.  .  .  incest  rules.  (Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  i,  165.)  The 
origin  of  the  aversion  to  incest,  Frazer  adds,  is  a  mystery. 

155 


156  Fear  and  Conventionality 


1 


out  that  novelty  is  a  necessary  sex  stimulant. 
**The  newcomer  fiUeth  the  eye.*' 

It  may  be;  but  their  exogamy  theory  rests,  I 
think,  on  an  even  deeper  foundation.  Is  not 
aversion  to  mating  within  both  the  clan  and  the 
household  due  to  the  fact  that  novelty  in  cus- 
tomary relations  is  extremely  disquieting,  disquiet- 
ing not  only  to  the  persons  directly  concerned,* 
but  to  the  groups  to  which  they  belong? 

Incest,  whatever  its  definition,  is  always  a 
matter  of  group  concern  and  always  subject  to 
punishment,  heavy  punishment  too.  If  a  New 
Britain  woman  married  within  her  class — as  else- 
where in  Melanesia  the  islanders  are  divided  into 
two  marriage  classes — her  nearest  kinsman  would 
seek  her  out  and  kill  her  the  moment  he  found  her.f 
"The  relatives  of  the  woman  would  be  so  ashamed 
that  only  her  death  could  satisfy  them.  "^  In 
Sumatra,  Batak  first  cousins,  a  brother's  son  and 
a  sister's  daughter,  married  each  other  at  the  risk 

*  **  Disgust  is  associated  with  the  idea  of  sexual  intercourse 
between  persons  who  have  Hved  in  a  long  continued  intimate 
relationship  from  a  period  of  life  at  which  the  action  of  desire  is 
naturally  out  of  the  question.  This  association  cannot  be 
explained  by  the  mere  liking  of  novelty."  (Westermarck, 
Human  Marriage,  p.  353.) 

fHer  mate  would  be  killed  too.  Twins  of  opposite  sex  are 
killed.  Belonging  to  the  same  marriage  class,  their  embryonic 
intimacy  is  improper.    (Danks,  p.  292.) 


In  tKe  Family  157 

of  being  killed  and  eaten.  *  If  persons  of  the  same 
name  married  in  Yucatan  they  were  ostracized, 
in  China,  they  were  given  sixty  blows.  ^ 

On  the  other  hand  marriage  outside  of  the 
kinship  group  may  also  be  opposed  or  penalized. 
In  south-east  Australia,  although  the  elders  of 
two  tribes  may  sometimes  for  reasons  of  state  plan 
an  intertribal  marriage,  there  is  always  hot  oppo- 
sition within  the  tribe  out  of  which  the  girl  is  to 
marry.  4  An  Athenian  man  or  woman  married 
to  an  alien  might  be  sold  as  a  slave.  ^  Did  not 
Miriam  and  Aaron  speak  against  Moses  because 
of  the  Ethiopian  woman  he  had  married  and  were 
not  the  Hittite  wives  of  Esau  "a  grief  of  mind"  to 
Isaac  and  Rebekah?  A  proper  young  Hebrew 
married  his  cousin.  "Is  there  never  a  woman 
of  thy  brethren,  or  among  all  thy  people  that  thou 
goest  to  take  a  wife  of  the  uncircumcised  Philis- 
tines?" grumble  Samson's  parents  and,  subse- 
quently Samson  was  thought  no  doubt  by  others, 
if  not  by  them,  to  deserve  his  fate. 

Is  not  endogamy  to  be  explained  as  an  ex- 
pression of  the  same  aversion  which  is  back  of 
exogamy* — aversion  to  a  break  in  customary  re- 

*  Westermarck  holds  that  endogamous  and  exogamous  in- 
stincts are  alike  {Human  Marriage,  p.  353),  but  in  what  way 
alike  he  fails  to  state. 


158  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

la  tions,*  taking  in  endogamy  the  form  of  hostility 
to  the  stranger?  And  may  not  the  wide-spread 
practice  of  avoidance  among  kindred  be  explained 
on  a  like  groimd — dislike  of  a  disturbance  of  habit- 
ual relations?  "Avoidance"  is  most  commonly 
practised,  as  we  might  expect  from  our  hypothesis, 
by  relatives  by  marriage.  In  some  Victorian 
tribes,  for  example,  a  woman's  mother  and  aunts 
may  never  in  their  lives  speak  to  her  suitor  or 
husband  or  even  look  at  him.  Nor  may  a  man 
mention  his  mother-in-law's  name.  ^  If  a  Wemba 
see  his  mother-in-law  coming  along  the  path,  he 
must  at  once  retreat  into  the  bush.  If  he  meet 
her  face  to  face  he  must  keep  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground^ — a  perfect  picture  for  the  modem  car- 
toonist, f  A  Zulu  woman  may  have  nothing  to  do 
with  her  father-in-law  or  with  any  of  her  husband's 
male  relations  in  the  ascending  line.  She  may  not 
even  name  them  to  herself.  She  must  to  a  certain 
extent  also  hlonipa,  to  use  the  native  term,  her 
mother-in-law.^  A  Beni-Amer  woman  is  also 
shimned,  ceremonially,  by  her  daughter-in-law.' 

*The  sporadic  cases  of  uncle-niece,  brother-sister  marriage 
have  been  explained  and,  properly  I  think,  as  due  to  economic  or 
dynastic  reasons,  to  the  desire  to  keep  property  or  position  in  the 
family. 

fThe  mother-in-law  joke  is  even  staler  than  we  sometimes 
think. 


In  tKe  Familx  159 

On  the  TuUy  in  Queensland  a  woman  believes  that 
her  teeth  would  rot  out  were  she  to  converse  with 
her  mother-in-law.'^"  Among  the  North  American 
Indians  a  man  "avoids"  his  father-in-law  as  well 
as  his  mother-in-law."  So  does  a  Fijian.  Nor 
may  a  Fijian  woman  speak  to  her  mother-in-law  or 
her  brother-in-law."  According  to  the  Li  Kt  a 
Chinese  sister-in-law  and  brother-in-law  "do  not 
interchange  inquiries  about  each  other,'* *^  a  degree 
of  avoidance  we  ourselves  may  practise  almost  as 
fvdly  by  the  opposite  method  of  "asking  about" 
him  or  her  as  a  form  of  respect. 

The  popular  explanation  of  avoidance  as  an 
expression  of  respect  comes  nearer  the  truth,  I 
fancy,  than  the  orthodox  scientific  explanation  of 
it  as  an  incest  rule.*  For  respectful  conduct  is 
merely  treating  a  person  in  a  way  which  puts  him 
at  his  ease,  which  does  not  disturb  his  settled 
habits  or  rub  him  up  the  wrong  way.    Whereas  to 

*  Parsons,  Elsie  Clews,  "Avoidance,"  The  American  Journal 
of  Sociology,  January,  1914. 

Tyler  suggested  that  avoidance  results  from  the  intrusion 
of  a  person  into  a  house  in  which  he  or  she  has  no  right  and  is 
therefore  cut.  ('*  On  a  Method  of  Investigating  the  Development 
of  Institutions:  Applied  to  Laws  of  Marriage  and  Descent,'* 
/.  A.  /.,  xviii  (1888-9),  247-8.)  I  dififer  with  him  merely  on  the 
point  that  avoidance  is  first  a  natural  and  then  a  ceremonious  me- 
thod of  shirking  an  adjustment  in  a  personal  relationship,  rather 
than  a  method  of  deliberately  making  a  difference  between  the 
stranger  and  the  family  he  or  she  marries  into. 


l6o  Fear  and  Conventionality 

require  any  one  to  make  a  sudden  personal  ad- 
justment is  never  good  manners.  Now  it  is 
noticeable  that  although  avoidance  may  itself 
become  a  steadfast  habit,  in  some  cases  after  a 
lapse  of  time,  after  people  have  had  a  chance  to 
accustom  themselves  to  their  new  relation,  shall 
we  say,  avoidance  ceases.  A  Wemba  may  talk  to 
his  mother-in-law  as  soon  as  he  is  a  father.''*  So 
may  a  Basuto  and  a  Cree  Indian,  each  after  his 
marriage  having  had  to  be  reticent.  (A  Cree's 
parents-in-law,  we  note  incidentally,  call  him  after 
his  child,  i.  e.  Father  of  so-and-so.*)  Although 
an  Armenian  bride  has  to  wear  a  veil  of  crimson 
wool  over  her  face  and  is  not  allowed  to  address 
any  senior  member  of  her  husband's  household, 
in  course  of  time  the  house-father,  well  assured  of 
her  behaviour,  does  remove  her  veilf  and  imloosen 
her  tongue. '5 

*  In  accordance  with  his  theory  of  avoidance,  Tylor  thought 
that  teknonymy  was  a  recognition  of  parenthood  by  relations  by 
affinity.  (/.  A.  I.,  xviii,  248-50.)  The  birth  of  a  child  gave  its 
parent  a  right  in  the  house  of  its  grandparents,  maternal  or 
paternal  as  might  be.  It  does  to  be  sure  make  him  or  her  less  of  a 
stranger,  but  it  also  gives  him  or  her  a  status,  always  easier  to 
deal  with  than  a  personaUty.  The  Cree  undoubtedly  finds  it  less 
irksome  to  call  his  son-in-law  by  his  status  rather  than  by  his 
personal  name. 

t  He  may  not  remove  it  for  years  and  seldom  does  he  remove 
it  until  the  birth  of  a  son.  "A  wife  shows  her  character  at  the 
cradle,"  is  an  Armenian  aphorism.  Does  it  not  express  the 
feeling,  howbeit  rationalizing  it,  that  a  woman  loses  herself  in  her 


In  tKe  Familx  l6l 

But  avoidance  is  practised  not  only  between 
relatives  by  marriage.  In  the  belief  that  the 
slightest  contact  will  be  followed  by  serious  ill- 
ness, at  a  certain  stage  in  the  Kumai  initiation 
the  youths  and  the  women  are  mutually  taboo, '^ 
and  what  might  be  called  avoidance  symbolism 
figures  in  the  initiation  rites  of  several  Australian 
tribes.  In  the  Elema  district,  New  Guinea,  initi- 
ates leaving  their  eravo  must  not  go  near  home  to 
preclude  all  possibility  of  being  recognized  by 
their  kinswomen.  A  mother  who  brings  her  son 
food  must  by  some  noise  signal  her  approach  to 
give  him  time  to  run  back  into  the  eravo. ^"^  We 
recall  how  the  New  Britain  initiate  has  to  hide 
away  from  his  kinswomen  at  the  risk  of  putting 
them  to  shame  and  forfeiting  the  property  of  his 
friends.  Although  a  Hottentot  boy  was  so  tied  to 
his  mother's  apron  strings  until  his  initiation  that 
he  was  not  allowed  to  talk  with  men  at  all,  not 
even  with  his  own  father,  after  initiation — at 
eighteen — he  had  to  avoid  his  mother  altogether 
at  the  risk,  if  even  he  spoke  to  her,  of  being 
called  a  baby,'^  a  trying  experience  to  any  boy. 


child?  Her  baby  diverts  the  attention  of  the  family  from  herself 
and  so  makes  her  personality  less  fearsome.  See  Parsons,  Elsie 
Clews,  "  Teknonymy,"  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology.  March, 
1914. 


l62  Fear  and  Conventionality 

It  seems  to  me  that  such  furtiveness  on  the  part 
of  initiates  is  an  expression  of  the  sense  of  awk- 
wardness felt  on  both  sides,  by  boys  and  kins- 
women alike,  through  the  break  in  their  habitual 
relations.  It  is  also  an  expression  of  reluctance 
to  enter  into  new  relations  with  those  one  has 
associated  with  on  other  terms.  In  this  case  as  in 
others  the  demand  for  an  adjustment  of  personal 
relations  is  most  easily  met  or  dodged  by  the 
raising  of  fresh  barriers. 

Such  barriers  are  put  up  quite  often  between 
brothers  and  sisters,  sometimes  between  mothers 
and  daughters,  or  between  fathers  and  daughters. 
Fiji  brothers  and  sisters  may  not  speak  together. '' 
"You  Whites  show  no  respect  to  your  sisters. 
You  talk  to  them, "  a  Crow  Indian  once  said  to  Dr. 
Lowie.^**  In  Queensland  once  a  sister  is  grown 
up,  her  brother  will  not  even  mention  her  name.*' 
Were  a  New  Caledonian  girl  to  run  across  her 
brother,  she  would  have  to  throw  herself  on  the 
ground  face  downward.**  Were  a  Vedda  girl  to 
fall  and  hurt  herself  it  is  said  that  her  brother 
could  not  give  her  a  helping  hand.*^  Among  the 
Veddas  a  woman  does  not  speak  to  her  adult 
daughter,  nor  does  a  girl's  father.*^  It  would 
shock  a  Toda  girl  to  be  touched  by  her  father.  *s 
I  once  asked  an  American  father  if  he  felt  entirely 


In  tHe  Familx  163 

at  ease  with  his  family  of  daughters.  "We  are 
on  excellent  terms, "  he  rejoined.  "They  are  very 
companionable;  but  of  course  there  are  things  a 
man  can't  do  with  a  daughter  or  talk  over  as  he 
would  with  a  son. " 

The  Vedda  taboo  between  mother  and  daughter 
betrays  a  desire  for  separation  between  those 
unlike  in  age.  The  difference  in  age  between  the 
members  of  a  family  is  the  second  great  source  of 
unlikeness  between  them  which  has  to  be  appre- 
hended and  regulated.  It  is  dealt  with  in  various 
ways.  Children  may  live  out.  Among  the  Bon  toe 
Igorot  a  child  of  two  ceases  to  sleep  at  home. 
Boys  go  to  the  pa-ha-fd-nan  or  men's  clubhouse, 
girls  to  the  olag.^^  Bororo  boys  of  Brazil  go  to  the 
men's  house  as  soon  as  they  are  weaned.  "^  In 
New  Guinea  they  go  at  four.^^  An  Italian  ob- 
server of  England  under  Henry  VII  says  that 
boys  and  girls  at  the  age  of  seven  or  nine  at  the 
utmost  are  sent  out  by  their  parents,  parents  in 
every  class  of  life,  to  live  and  serve  in  the  houses 
of  others,  the  parents  in  their  turn  taking  into 
their  service  the  children  of  others.  "And  on  in- 
quiring their  reason  for  this  severity,  they  answered 
that  they  did  it  in  order  that  their  children  might 
learn  better  manners.  But  I  for  my  part, "  adds 
their  critic,  "believe  that  they  do  it  because  they 


164  Fear  and  Conventionality 

like  to  enjoy  all  their  comforts  themselves,  and 
that  they  are  better  served  by  strangers  than  they 
would  be  by  their  own  children.  Besides  which, 
the  English  being  great  epicures,  and  very  avari- 
cious by  nature,  indulge  in  the  most  delicate  fare 
themselves  and  give  their  household  the  coarsest 
bread,  and  beer,  and  cold  meat  baked  on  Sunday, 
for  the  week  ...  if  they  had  their  own  children 
at  home  they  would  be  obliged  to  give  them  the 
same  food  they  made  use  of  for  themselves."*' 
In  later  years  in  England  the  boarding  school 
usurped  the  place  of  this  domestic  apprentice 
system.  Boys  were  sent  to  school  at  seven  or 
eight.  ''If  any  go  at  an  earlier  age, "  writes  a  peda- 
gogue in  1 61 2,  ''they  are  rather  sent  to  the  school 
to  keepe  them  from  troubling  the  house  at  home,* 
and  from  danger,  and  shrewd  tumes,  than  for 
any  great  hope  and  desire  their  friends  have  that 
they  should  learne  anything  in  effect.  "^^  Among 
ourselves  we  often  say  that  it  is  time  for  John  or 
Jim  to  go  away  to  school  to  learn  to  be  a  gentle- 
man, "not  that  he  will  learn  much  of  anything 
else." 

Even  when  children  remain  at  home  and  when 

*  To  keep  them  "out  of  mischief,"  as  a  modern  writer  puts  it, 
"mischief  meaning  for  the  most  part  worrying  the  grown-ups." 
(Shaw,  Bernard.    Parents  and  Children,  p.  xl.     New  York,  191 4.) 


In  tKe  Family  165 

avoidance  in  its  narrow  meaning  is  not  practised 
between  members  of  the  family  differing  either  in 
age  or  in  sex,  reserves  and  constraints  of  various 
kinds  characterize  family  life.  Often  eating  to- 
gether "is  not  done."  In  the  Society  and  in  the 
Sandwich  Islands  brothers  and  sisters,  however 
young,  do  not  eat  together.  A  son  eats  in  company 
with  his  mother  only  when  he  is  at  her  breast.^' 
An  Aeneze  boy  does  not  presume  to  eat  at  all 
before  his  father.  "Look  at  that  boy,"  says  the 
scandal  monger,  "he  satisfied  his  appetite  in  the 
presence  of  his  father."^*  Our  children  as  a  rule 
eat  their  supper  at  least  in  the  nursery.  In 
Kavirondo,  in  East  Africa,  father  and  sons  never 
eat  together.  Nor  do  brothers.  The  Kavirondo 
women  eat  after  the  men,^^  a  sequence  common 
in  tribal  or  in  peasant  life. 

When  it  does  occur,  the  family  meal  has  a 
somewhat  ceremonial  character.  It  may  be  eaten 
in  silence  or  a  need  of  unbroken  talk  may  be  felt. 
The  elders  are  usually  served  first.  They  are 
entitled  to  certain  portions  and  to  the  youngest 
goes  "the  drumstick."  The  juniors  may  be  ex- 
pected to  stand  until  their  elders  are  seated.  In 
the  Tonga  Islands  the  juniors  have  to  turn  their 
backs  on  the  seniors.  ^  4 

Shyness  in  the  family  is  also  expressed  in  the 


l66  Fear  and  Conventionality 

quite  common  avoidance  of  personal  names.  An 
islander  of  Torres  Straits  would  be  greatly  morti- 
fied* were  he  to  make  a  mistake  and  call  a  relative 
by  marriage  by  name.^^  Many  peoples  beside  the 
Crees  are  teknonymous.  I  have  a  Pueblo  Indian 
friend  and  several  New  England  friends  whose 
wives  always  refer  to  them  as  the  children's  father. 
Even  as  afianceey  a  Zulu  woman  is  called  mother 
of  so-and-so,  3^  an  anticipation  which  the  Ameri- 
can, however  quick  he  is  after  he  is  a  father  to 
call  his  wife  "mother"  or  "mommer,"  might  be 
loath  to  make.  In  south-east  Australia  a  man 
speaks  to  or  of  his  children  as  one  counts  on  one's 
fingers:  Tayling  or  "Thumb"  for  the  first-bom, 
Burhi  or  "First  Finger"  for  the  second  child, 
Youlgo  or  "Second  Finger"  for  the  third,  etc.^^ 
An  Andamanese  addresses  his  son  as  dar  o  dire, 
"He  that  has  been  begotten  by  me."^^  Every- 
where offspring  address  their  parents  by  their  kin- 
ship term.  It  is  contrary  to  Corean  etiquette  ever 
to  pronoimce  the  name  of  a  parent  or  of  an  uncle.  ^' 
The  names  of  these  relatives  a  Massim  would 
not  only  never  think  of  pronouncing  himself  but 
mention  of  them  in  his  hearing  he  would  resent 
as  insulting  and  cause  enough  for  blows.  ^^  Senior 
collateral  relatives  are  addressed  by  their  kinship 
*  See  p.  94. 


m 


In  tHe  Family  167 

name  both  in  the  classificatory  and  in  the  lineal 
system  of  kinship.  In  the  classificatory  system  an 
aunt  is  called  "mother,"  an  uncle,  "father."  In 
the  lineal  system  personal  names  for  aunt  and 
uncle  are  sometimes  used  but  never  without  the 
prefix  of  the  kinship  term.*  Not  long  ago  senior 
brothers  and  sisters  and  cousins  were  addressed 
among  us  with  a  kinship  prefix. 

Is  it  far  fetched  to  suggest  that  avoidance  may 
also  be  traced  in  family  conversation  or  the  lack 
of  itf  both  at  the  dinner  table  and  away  from  it? 
It  has  at  times  with  us — unfortunately  this  is  a 
matter  little  observed  outside  of  civilization — ^it 
has  such  an  unresponsive  character  that  it  has 
been  denied  by  some  the  name  of  conversation  at 
all.  It  is  a  kind  of  chatter  made  up  of  more  or  less 
disconnected  comments  upon  the  neighbours  or 
the  neighbotirhood,  upon  the  day's  incidents  or 
accidents,  upon  "matters  of  general  interest." 
Feelings  or  points  of  view,  ambitions  or  fancies 

*  "  Why  will  you  never  call  me  *  Elsie '  instead  of  *  Aunt  Elsie  *  ? " 
I  once  asked  a  little  nephew.  **  I  don't  like  to, "  was  for  some  time 
his  only  answer.  "  It  doesn't  fit  to  call  older  people  by  their  first 
names, "  he  added  later.  It  is  disrespectful  to  address  elders  by 
name,  say  the  Negritoes.  (Read,  W.  A.  Negritoes  of  Zamhales. 
Ethnological  Survey  Publications,  vol.  ii,  pt.  i,  p.  56.  Manila, 
1904.)    Boys  are  savages  in  more  senses  than  one. 

t  "Avoid  conversing  in  society  with  the  members  of  your  own 
family."    (Ward,  p.  402.) 


i68         Fear  and  Conventionality 

figure  little  if  at  all.  Then  certain  subjects  without 
which  talk  is  likely  in  any  circle  to  flag  are  never 
referred  to  in  the  family — religion,  sometimes 
politics,  sometimes  arts  or  letters,  almost  always 
sex. 

The  reluctance  of  parents  in  civilization  to  dis- 
cuss with  their  children  questions  of  sex*  has 
recently  been  remarked  upon — dramatically  and 
even  statistically.  Aware  of  the  need  of  the  dis- 
cussion, an  effort  is  being  made  to  shift  the  re- 
sponsibility from  parents  to  school  teachers.  Much 
the  same  kind  of  shifting  occurs,  I  surmise,  among 
savages.  Initiation  ceremonies  at  which  formal 
education  in  sex  is  given  are  in  the  hands  not  of 
parents  but  of  the  Elders  or  the  medicine-men. 
In  the  boarding-schools  to  which  the  youth  of 
West  Africa  are  sent  before  initiation,  instruction 
in  the  duties  of  marriage  and  parenthood  is  given 
by  the  old  headmaster  or  mistress. 

Among  brothers  and  sisters  too  there  is  a  ten- 
dency— where  they  talk  together  at  all — not  to 
refer  to  sex  topics.  A  Blackfoot  Indian  has  to  be 
careful  in  his  conversation  before  his  sisters  "not 
to  offend  their  modesty.*'*'    Among  the  Samoans 

*  Even  impersonally.  As  to  personal  experience,  what  father 
would  ever  think  of  telling  his  daughter  what  he  has  really  liked 
in  women,  "what  son  ever  dreams  of  asking  his  mother  about 
her  marriage?"    (Shaw,  p.  xcvi.) 


In  tKe  Family  169 

not  the  remotest  reference  to  "anything,  even 
by  way  of  a  joke,  that  conveyed  the  sUghtest  in- 
delicacy in  thought  or  word  or  gesture"  was  ever 
made  in  the  presence  of  brothers  and  sisters.^* 
I  am  reminded  of  a  reverend  editor  of  the  Arabian 
Nights  who  wrote  that  he  had  aimed  to  "purify" 
the  text  so  that  the  "most  innocently  minded 
maiden"  might  read  it  aloud  to  her  brothers  and 
sisters  "without  scruple  or  compunction."  Were 
Samoan  maidens  ever  in  the  habit  of  rejecting  a 
suitor,  I  wonder,  by  proposing  to  be  a  "sister"  to 
him — a  final  way  of  stating  that  all  references  to 
sex  were  to  be  eliminated  between  them. 

It  must  be  said  that  with  us  jokes  about  sex 
are  not  altogether  taboo — as  inhibitory  influences. 
Does  not  every  prudent  brother  or  sister  conceal  a 
love  affair  so  as  not  to  be  "teased"  about  it? 
Teasing  is  the  usual  way  taken  by  the  family  to 
show  its  members  that  references  to  any  of  their 
personal  experiences  except  the  most  colourless  are 
unwelcome  in  the  family  circle.  In  rare  cases 
family  banter  or  chaff  may  be  disallowed — among 
the  Omaha,*  for  example,  if  a  son-in-law  and 
mother-in-law  or  cousins  of  the  opposite  sex  laugh 

*  Among  the  Sioux  on  the  other  hand  joking  with  brothers-  or 
sisters-in-law  was  in  vogue.  "  To  complain  of  such  jokes  or  resent 
them,  no  matter  how  personal,  would  have  been  an  unpardonable 
breach  of  etiquette. "    (Eastman,  p.  268.) 


I70  Fear  and  Conventionality 

at  each  other,  the  offender  may  be  tickled  or 
scratched  or  bitten  ^^  (without  the  right  of  re- 
prisal)— but  as  a  rule  family  ridicule  is  as  effec- 
tive as  ridicule  ever  is  to  compel  conformity  and 
reticence. 

But  avoidance  whether  of  kindred  or  of  topics  of 
conversation  is  not  a  sufficient  barrier  against  inti- 
macy or  unwonted  relations.  Besides,  companion- 
ship, if  not  intimacy,  the  home  loving  heart  craves. 
Hence  in  family  life  as  in  marriage  set  forms  of 
intercourse  are  desirable.  The  time  for  them  or  the 
occasion  varies  of  course  in  different  communities. 
Unknown  in  some  places,  the  common  meal  is  with 
us  the  most  usual  occasion  for  the  family  to  come 
together.  Not  to  eat  with  the  rest  of  the  family 
even  when  you  are  all  away  from  home,  travelling 
for  example,  would  be  considered  unaccountable 
or  selfish.  Religious  rites  may  bring  the  family 
together,  whether  the  cult  is  of  itself  familial  or 
merely  encourages  family  prayers  or  going  to 
church  together.  Family  retinions  in  honour  of 
birthdays  or  other  anniversaries  are  in  most 
families  indispensable  occurrences.  They  maybe 
the  only  occasions  when  the  family  "connexion*'  is 
sure  to  foregather;  although  in  most  communities 
weddings  and  funerals  are  perhaps  the  occasions 
it  is  most  certain  to  grace.    These  celebrations  ap- 


In  tKe  Family  171 

pear  to  be  so  ceremonial  and  so  safely  impersonal 
that  even  persons  not  on  speaking  terms  with  one 
another  join  in  them.  Family  visits  are  also  in 
order  in  connexion  with  all  family  crises,  births, 
betrothals  and  marriages,  deaths,  and  in  token  of 
respect  from  a  junior  to  a  senior  member  of  the 
family.  **I  expect  you  to  come  and  see  me,  you 
know  I*m  your  aunt,*'  says  Aunt  Sarah,  or,  "I'm 
the  only  aunt  you  have, "  she  will  add  if  she  is,  her 
insistence  sharpened  perhaps  by  the  realization 
that  with  us  aunts  cannot  absolutely  count  on 
receiving  visits  of  ceremony. 

Family  meetings  are  characterized  by  stereo- 
typed greetings  and  farewells.  In  Queensland 
when  a  mother  and  daughter  have  not  met  for  a 
long  time,  the  mother  will  rub  a  stick  into  the  top 
of  her  head  until  it  bleeds,  crying  and  sobbing  as 
hard  as  she  can.  When  the  daughter  thinks  her 
mother  has  sufficiently  relieved  her  feelings,  she 
takes  the  stick  away.''^  In  the  Andaman  Islands, 
relatives  who  meet  each  other  after  an  absence 
throw  their  arms  around  each  other's  neck  and 
sob  as  if  their  hearts  would  break  until  they  are 
completely  worn  out.'*^  If  a  Toda  visits  a  village 
in  which  live  female  relatives  younger  than  him- 
self, he  will  be  met  by  them,  and  greeted  by  the 
Kalmelpudithti  or  *'leg  up  he  puts"  salutation. 


172  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

Bowing  down  before  him  the  kinswoman  lifts  to 
her  forehead  first  one  of  his  feet  and  then  the 
other. '♦^  **Say  good-bye,'*  we  bid  Harry,  as  he 
starts  to  escape  from  the  notice  of  a  senior  relative. 
"Will  you  not  bless  our  children  before  you  go?" 
says  a  Wemba  to  the  elderly  kinsman  who  visits 
him.  The  kinsman  will  then  spit  on  the  chest  of 
each  child  and  say,  "May  you  keep  well,  my 
child.  "^7 

But  even  the  meeting  from  day  to  day  is  formal- 
ized. A  Chinese  son  is  boimd  to  pay  his  respects 
at  dawn  and  "express  his  affection  by  the  offer  of 
pleasant  delicacies."  At  sundown  he  "will  pay 
his  evening  visit  in  the  same  way.  "''^  In  the 
seventeenth  century  an  English  youth  was  told 
to  crave  his  parents'  blessing  every  morning  and 
every  evening  on  his  knees.'"'  Two  generations 
back,  writes  Mrs.  John  Farrar  in  1841,  young  per- 
sons rose  and  courtesied  every  time  their  father 
entered  the  room.  5°  Nowadays,  if  they  are  man- 
nerly they  still  rise  at  times  for  their  mother,  and 
rare  is  the  good  nurse  who  does  not  insist  upon 
her  charge  kissing  his  mother  good-morning  and 
good-night. 

Such  demonstrations  of  affection  are  not  the 
only  impersonal  expressions  of  family  feeling. 
"Being  companionable"  may  also  be  an  attitude 


In  tHe  Familx  173 

of  ceremony  more  or  less  preclusive,  I  infer,  of  a 
personal  relationship.  I  will  give  a  few  illustra- 
tions. In  the  Islands  of  Torres  Straits,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  a  man*s  relative  by  marriage,  his 
itnit  will  go  out  with  him  in  his  canoe.  In  its  bow 
a  special  place  is  always  assigned  the  imi,  and  it 
is  his  business  to  hoist  the  sail,  heave  the  anchor, 
light  the  fire,  and  prepare  the  food.^"  In  China 
"after  the  proper  dressing  at  cock-crow  sons  and 
daughters-in-law  should  go  to  their  parents  and 
parents-in-law.  On  getting  to  where  they  are, 
with  bated  breath  and  gentle  voice,  they  should 
ask  if  their  clothes  are  too  warm  or  too  cold,  whether 
they  are  ill  or  pained,  or  uncomfortable  in  any  way ; 
and  if  they  be  so,  they  should  proceed  reverentially 
to  stroke  and  scratch  the  place.  ...  In  bringing 
in  the  basin  for  them  to  wash  .  .  .  they  will  beg 
to  be  allowed  to  pour  out  the  water,  and  .  .  . 
they  will  hand  the  towel.  They  will  ask  whether 
they  want  anything,  and  then  respectfully  bring  it. 
All  this  they  will  do  with  an  appearance  of  pleasure 
to  make  their  parents  feel  at  ease.  **  s*  With  us  the 
joint  family  being  less  common  than  with  the 
Chinese,  the  ceremonial  of  being  companionable 
falls  upon  the  unmarried  offspring.  A  good  son 
will  take  some  of  his  meals  at  home  and  now  and 
again  spend  the  evening ;  a  devoted  daughter  will  go 


174  Fear  and  Conventionality 

driving  with  her  father  or  mother  or  travelling  or 
shopping  or  calling.*  American  brothers  and  sisters 
are  less  companionable;  but  a  youth  is  generally 
expected  to  be  his  sister's  escort.  He  feels  more 
or  less  responsible  for  her,  opposing  in  her  ''the 
slightest  indecorum, "S3  and  serving  as  a  kind  of 
watch  dog.  It  is  for  him  to  protect  her  honour  and 
the  honour  of  the  family.  Elsewhere  too  this 
special  function  falls  to  brothers.  "Last  Friday 
when  I  came  from  work,"  said  a  Chukma  to 
Lewin,  "my  father  said  to  me,  'Where  is  your 
sister?  She  went  out  some  time  ago  to  fetch  water 
and  has  not  returned.  I  suspect  she  has  run  off 
at  last  with  that  worthless  fellow  Boopea,  who  is 
always  hanging  about  the  house.*  On  this  I  went 
and  called  two  or  three  other  young  men  who  lived 
close  by,  and  we  went  off  after  my  sister.  We  met 
her  and  Boopea  in  the  valley  by  the  stream.  Boo- 
pea was  first  in  the  path ;  my  sister  followed  .  .  . 
holding  his  hand.  Then  I  was  enraged,  and  I  ran 
at  Boopea  and  cut  at  him  with  my  dao ;  he  leaped 
to  one  side  and  the  blow  fell  on  my  sister.  She 
said  once  'Oh,  brother!*  and  then  fell  dead.'*^^ — 
Family  "differences"  do  not  always  end  so  dis- 
astrously, but  however  distressing  they  may  be, 

*  "A  mother  and  daughter  should  call  together."    {Manners 
and  Social  Usages,  p.  8.) 


In  tKe  Family  175 

they  appear  to  be  less  apprehended  and  less 
guarded  against  than  family  intimacies,  precluded 
entirely  as  they  are  by  avoidance  or  by  conven- 
tional companionship,  companionship  at  set  times 
and  places,  in  set  duties  and  responsibilities.* 

*  For  these  functions,  as  a  whole,  functions  too  elaborate  and 
comprehensive  to  be  considered  here,  I  must  refer  the  reader  to 
general  treatises  on  the  family. 


XV 

AGE-CLASSES 

"\  A  7HERE  birthdays  are  not  celebrated  or 
'  •  registration  or  enumeration  blanks  filled 
out,*  it  usually  happens  that  age  labels  extend 
over  comparatively  long  periods.  Divisions  of 
life  history  similar  to  those  set  forth  so  poetically 
by  Jacques  the  misanthropical  are  followed  very 
practically  in  tribal  life.  Upon  them  are  based 
conditions  of  living,  duties  and  obligations,  re- 
strictions and  privileges.  Everyone  is  expected 
to  conform  to  the  ways  of  his  contemporaries  and 
respect  the  different  ways  of  his  juniors  or  seniors. 
By  this  classification  everyone  may  be  treated  not 
according  to  the  needs  of  his  personality,  not 
according  to  his  individual  demands,  but  accord- 
ing to  the  prevailing  conceptions  about  his  age- 

*  Why  is  the  recording  of  age  so  much  insisted  upon  in  these 
blanks?  Is  it  merely  for  the  purpose  of  identification  as  the 
rationalist  asserts?  And  why  is  it  bad  manners  in  other  situa- 
tions to  ask  anyone  his  or  her  age?  The  joke  about  women  not 
telling  their  age  is  like  many  another  long  standing  joke  quite 
worth  ethnological  analysis. 

176 


A.^e-Classes  177 

class,  according  to  what  as  a  member  of  that  class 
he  should  be  like.  Age-classes  are  extraordinarily 
efficient  barriers  against  personality.* 

There  is  considerable  variation  in  determining 
the  boundaries  of  age-classes.  Physical  changes 
are  taken  into  account — the  signs  of  puberty, 
child-bearing,  decrepitude;  but  it  is  usually  cere- 
monial which  definitely  marks  off  one  age-class 
from  another,  particularly  initiation  and  marriage 
ceremonial.  In  spite  of  adolescence,  where  there 
has  been  no  initiation,  the  class  often  remains 
unchanged.  In  Australia,  in  Fiji,  in  Samoa,  and 
elsewhere  an  uninitiated  man  has  to  stay  in  the 
age-class  of  the  boys. '  Similarly  unless  a  person 
is  married, t  he  or  she  may  have  to  stay  in  the  age- 
class  of  the  unmarried  juveniles.  Every  unmar- 
ried Corean,  for  example,  is  treated  as  a  child. 
Whatever  his  capers,  he  is  never  held  to  accoimt, 
for  he  is  not  supposed  to  take  life  seriously.  In 
social  reunions  he  can  take  no  part,  and  on  affairs 
of  importance  he  must  hold  his  tongue* — a  social 
position  not  very  dissimilar  from  that  at  one  time 
accorded  Anglo-Saxon  old  maids. 

*  Their  use  to  the  primitive  in  meeting  the  changes  he  finds  so 
trjdng  I  am  analyzing  in  another  study  under  the  rubric  of 
ceremonial  reluctance. 

t  Initiation  often  affects  marriage.  Women  will  very  com- 
monly not  marry  uninitiated  men. 


lyS  Fear  and  Conventionality 

Forms  of  address  characterize  different  age- 
classes.  Among  the  Koita  of  New  Guinea,  if  an 
erigabef  sl  man  in  his  prime,  were  speaking,  he 
wotdd  address  a  man  older  than  his  father  as 
wahia;  a  man  of  his  father's  generation  as  raimu; 
a  man  of  his  own  generation  as  vasi  or  hiage;  a  man 
of  a  younger  generation  as  roro.  ^  Until  a  Kakhyen 
comes  of  age  Ma  is  prefixed  to  his  name,  when  of 
age,  'N;  but  Ma  is  always  used  in  addressing  a 
junior,  W  in  addressing  a  senior.^  Among  the 
Akikuyu  a  little  girl  is  called  ka-re'-go,  a  little 
boy,  ka^-he;  sl  big  girl  or  boy  not  yet  initiated 
or  circumcised,  ki-re'-gu  or  ki'-he;  a  girl  or  boy 
after  initiation  or  circumcision,  moi-re'-tu  or  mu^- 
mo;  a  woman  betrothed  or  married,  but  not 
yet  a  mother,  mu-hi'-ki;  a  warrior,  nCwa-na'-ke; 
a  married  man  wa-ka-ny-u-ku;  a  mother  of  young 
children,  wa-bai;  sl  married  man  with  a  child, 
mun'-du  mu-ge^-ma;  a  mother  of  an  initiated  child, 
mu4i-mi'-a;  a  man  whose  children  are  growing  up, 
ka-ra-hai';  a  toothless  old  woman,  i-he^-ti;  an 
elderly  man,  m'zur'-ij  one  old  enough  to  need  a 
stick,  rrCzur'-i  a  ki-a-na,  one  extremely  aged, 
rrCzur'-i  a  bou'-i,^  Compared  with  these  appella- 
tions, appellations  no  more  particularized  than 
those  of  most  savages,  how  meagre  our  own  terms 
seem — baby,   master  and  miss,   Mr.   and   Mrs.! 


A^e-Classes  179 

As  for  our  elders,  they  lack  special  terms  of  address 
altogether,  unless  you  count  in  the  irregular 
practice  of  a  man's  saying  "sir"  to  his  senior.* 

The  habits  of  each  age-class  are  rigidly  regu- 
lated. Dieting  according  to  age  is  very  common. 
It  is  believed  among  the  Kumai  that  the  breasts 
of  girls  eating  kangaroo  will  not  develop  nor  the 
beard  or  whiskers  of  boys  eating  quail  or  its  eggs.* 
In  New  South  Wales  young  men  were  told  that 
if  they  ate  emu  they  would  break  out  in  sores. f 
Nor  could  they  eat  duck.  Only  the  married  ate 
duck  and  only  the  old  men,  emu.  Not  until  they 
were  middle-aged  could  the  Warramunga  eat 
lizards,  snakes,  turkeys,  bandicoot,  emu,  or 
echidna.''  Kabuis  youths  are  not  allowed  to  eat 
cat,^  nor  Fijian  initiates,  river  fish  or  eels  or  the 

*  By  how  many  years  it  is  rather  indefinite.  By  fifteen,  says 
one  authority.      (Harvey,  p.  122.) 

t  In  Queensland  and  Victoria  boys  and  girls  believe  that  if  they 
eat  forbidden  food  meteorites  or  lightning  will  kill  them.  (Jour- 
nal Anthropological  Institute,  xiii,  1883-4,  294;  Proc.  Linncean 
Soc.  New  South  Wales,  new  ser.,  x,  1895,  393.)  Several 
species  of  wild  fowl  and  their  eggs  are  supposed  to  cause  the 
muscles  of  the  boys  of  the  lower  Murray  tribes  to  shrink  and 
their  hair  to  turn  grey.  {Journal  and  Proceedings  Roy.  Soc. 
New  South  Wales,  xvii,  1883,  27.)  Among  the  Wakelbura 
the  spirit  of  forbidden  game  is  thought  to  enter  into  its  youthful 
eater,  first  causing  him  to  utter  its  peculiar  cry  and  then  kill- 
ing him.  (Howitt,  Native  Tribes,  p.  769.)  Analogous  magical 
phenomena  are  alleged  to  occur  in  our  own  nurseries.  "  If  you 
eat  so  much  cake,  you  won't  grow  up  to  be  strong."  "If  you 
drink  so  much  water,  you'll  turn  into  a  brook." 


i8o         Fear  and  Conventionalitx 

best  of  the  yams  or  vegetables. '  Koita  young 
folk  may  not  eat  certain  varieties  of  fish  lest  their 
skin  become  harsh  and  unpleasant  to  the  opposite 
sex.  Among  the  Southern  Massim  none  until 
past  middle  age  may  eat  dog  or  turtle. '°  When 
an  ox  is  killed  among  the  Akikuyu,"  the  N^  jdma, 
or  the  younger  men,  take  the  breast,  the  Ktdma, 
or  men  whose  eldest  child  has  been  initiated,  the 
belly  and  saddle,  the  Moran'ja,  or  men  to  whom  a 
second  child  has  been  born,  the  back,  and  the 
youths,  the  head,  neck,  and  ribs.*  For  China- 
men of  fifty  a  finer  grain  was  prepared,  according 
to  the  Li  Ki,  than  for  younger  men.  ''For 
those  of  sixty,  flesh  was  kept  in  store.  For  those 
of  seventy,  there  was  a  second  service  of  savotiry 
meat.  For  those  of  eighty,  there  was  a  constant 
supply  of  delicacies.  For  those  of  ninety,  food 
and  drink  were  never  out  of  their  chambers. 
Wherever  they  wandered,  it  was  required  that  sav- 
oury meat  and  drink  should  follow  them."  ^*  Beef 
soup  is  reserved  for  the  old  men  among  the  Sioux.  '^ 
A  Wagogo  child  may  not  eat  the  liver,  kidneys, 
or  heart  of  any  animal.  ^^  It  is  only  after  initia- 
tion that  a  Yaunde  may  eat  sheep  or  goat.'^ 
Only  after  we  have  "grown  up, "  i.  e,  "come  out,  ** 
or  gone  to  college,  may  we  drink  wine  or  take 

*  The  women  are  allowed  the  inside. 


-A^e-Classes  l8i 

after-dinner  coffee.  Beer  we  may  drink  sooner, 
at  least  in  the  form  of  shandy-gaff,  but  a  Masai 
may  not  drink  it  at  all  until  he  is  an  elder. 

While  a  Masai  is  a  member  of  the  warrior  class, 
as  he  is  sometimes  for  twenty  years,  he  is  in  fact 
"in  training,"  and  he  neither  drinks  nor  smokes.'^ 
Among  us  the  elders  often  extract  a  promise  from 
their  boys  not  to  smoke  until  they  are  twenty-one. 
Formerly  among  the  Sioux  a  young  man  could  not 
use  tobacco  until  he  had  achieved  a  record  as  a 
warrior '7;  in  the  Pueblo  of  Santa  Clara  not  until 
he  had  killed  a  coyote.*^  When  snuff- taking  was 
in  vogue  with  us,  it  was  probably  confined  to 
"grown-ups."  Among  the  Akikuyu  it  is  to-day 
a  habit  only  of  the  elders.'' 

Ornament  and  dress  are  almost  invariably 
expected  to  be  suitable  to  a  given  age.  Among 
most  savage  tribes  children  go  clothesless  until 
adolescence.  At  this  time  our  girls  lengthen  their 
skirts  and  wear  stockings  in  bathing.  At  fifteen 
a  Persian  boy  is  given  his  ceremonial  girdle.^" 
Only  after  initiation  could  a  Queensland  youth 
wear  the  grass-necklace,  the  human-hair  waist- 
belt,  and  the  opossum-string  phallocrypt  of  a 
man."'  At  a  corresponding  age  our  boys  pass 
from  short  trousers  into  long,  and  a  little  later 
acquire  "evening  clothes."     On  March  i6,  in  his 


l82  Fear  and  Conventionality- 

fifteenth  or  sixteenth  year,  a  Roman  boy  puts  on 
the  toga  virilis,^' 

Halamahera  boys  in  the  Moluccas  may  wear 
no  red  *  in  their  clothes  before  they  are  made 
men.* 3  The  head  kerchief  of  Aeneze  girls  is  red, 
of  their  seniors,  black.  ^^^  In  China  violet  and 
black  are  worn  only  by  old  ladies.  ^^  We  ourselves 
do  not  like  to  see  a  girl  wearing  black,  and  a 
generation  ago  old  ladies  were  supposed  not  to 
wear  anything  else — except  perhaps  grey  or  at  a 
stretch  pale  lavender.  Fond  of  pink,  they  might 
wear  it  only  surreptitiously.  "I  always  run  in 
plenty  of  pink  ribbon  in  my  things,  and  I  have 
pink  ribbon  garters!"  confesses  one  old  lady  who 
has  had  to  forgo  her  favorite  colour— on  the  out- 
side. ^'^ 

Textures  as  well  as  colours  are  proper  to  different 
ages.     The  veil  of  the  Venetian  maiden  was  of 

*  Given  colours  are  appropriate  not  only  to  age-classes  and  to 
royalty.  There  is  white  for  ghosts  (white  is  a  sacred  colour  too 
among  the  Ainu. — Batchelor,  p.  20) ;  black  and  white  and  mauve 
for  their  mourners  (yellow  in  China);  black  and  red  for  demons; 
blue  for  the  Virgin  Mary — ^and  ultramarine  at  that  when  her 
worshippers  can  afford  it.  There  is  the  yellow  novel,  the  red- 
covered  guide  book,  the  black  bound  Bible.  Almost  every 
group  associates  itself  with  a  colour — schools,  castes,  nations. 
(Once  in  Turkey  no  foreigner  was  allowed  to  wear  green,  Maho- 
met's colour. — A  Pepys  of  Mogul  India,  p.  5.  New  York,  1913.) 
The  sexes  have  their  own  colours,  beginning  in  the  nursery  with 
blue  for  boys,  pink  for  girls.  Then  there  is  the  taboo  on  many 
colours  for  men,  a  taboo  very  modem  and  very  rigid. 


Age-Classes  183 

silk,  of  the  Venetian  matron  of  holland,  edged 
with  bone  lace.*^  Velvet  is  not  suitable  for  a 
girl,  we  say,  nor  dimity  for  a  matron,  and  is  not 
a  soft  lace  the  most  becoming  thing  an  old  lady 
can  wear?  At  seventy  a  Chinaman  "does  not 
feel  warm  unless  he  wears  silk."'^  Nor  may 
a  Chinese  boy  wear  fm*.''*  Sixteenth-century 
Italians  criticised  a  young  man  who  wore  fur.^** 

Not  until  a  Kikuyu  woman's  first-bom  is 
initiated  does  she  wear  copper  earrings.^'  Be- 
tween initiation  and  marriage  Kiktiyu  maidens 
wear  on  their  forehead  a  band  of  beads  and  shell 
disks,  ^*  just  as  our  own  young  ladies  when  they 
"come  out"  may  wear  a  necklace  of  pearls,  small 
pearls — perhaps  seed  or  fresh- water  pearls,  at 
any  rate  not  large  pearls — ^for  costly  jewelry  is  in 
bad  taste  for  a  girl.  Her  first  handsome  piece 
of  jewelry  is  probably  a  wedding  gift,  although 
our  practice  is  not  as  uniform  in  this  matter  as  the 
Kikuyu.  The  Kikuyu  bride  regularly  receives 
from  her  father  the  iron  collar  which  befits  a 
matron.  ^^ 

Mating  is  regulated  according  to  age.  In  most 
savage  tribes  initiation  rites  take  place  at  adoles- 
cence and  as  a  rule  marriage  is  prescribed  at  a 
more  or  less  set  period  after  initiation.  By 
societies  whose  method  of  time  keeping  has  ad- 


i84  Fear  and  Conventionality 

vanced,  it  may  be  prescribed  at  a  set  age.  But 
in  either  case  failure  to  mate  at  the  customary 
time  is  derided  or  penalized.  In  the  Islands  of 
Torres  Straits  a  youth  whose  beard  begins  to 
get  heavy  or  a  maiden  whose  figure  is  maturing 
is  ridiculed  into  marriage.^'*  In  East  Central 
Africa  a  girl  learns  that  unless  she  marries  as  soon 
as  she  is  nubile  she  will  die.^^  At  twenty  the 
Jewish  youth  was  "numbered"  and  unless  he 
straightway  married  he  was  outcasted  as  a  criminal. 
Unmarried  Romans  between  the  ages  of  twenty 
and  fifty  for  women,  of  twenty  and  sixty  for  men, 
were  subject  to  tax,  they  could  not  become  heirs 
except  to  near  relatives,  and  they  could  not  receive 
legacies.^*  After  sixty  marriage  evidently  was 
not  to  be  expected  among  the  Romans.  Among 
us  the  marriage  of  an  elderly  man  or  woman  is 
apt  to  be  a  little  ridiculed.*  Love  making  by  the 
oldf  is  sure  to  be.  "It  were  no  meete  matter, 
but  an  yll  sight  to  see  a  man — being  olde,  hore- 

*  The  birth  of  a  child,  at  least  of  a  first  child,  to  those  getting 
on  in  years  also  seems  to  us  a  little  ridiculous.  In  the  Western 
Islands  of  Torres  Straits  the  child  of  such  a  couple  was  invariably 
killed,  so  much  did  its  parents  dread  the  ridicule  and  talk  its 
birth  occasioned.     {R.  C.  A.  E.  T.  S.,  vi,  109.) 

t  But  "people  remain  much  longer  in  the  sexual  arena"  than 
formerly.  "A  bishop's  wife  at  fifty  has  more  the  air  of  a  femme 
galante  than  an  actress  had  at  thirty-five  in  her  grandmother's 
time.*'    (Shaw,  p.  xcviii.) 


i\^e-Classes  185 

headed  and  toothlesse,  full  of  wrinckles,  with  a 
lute  in  his  armes  playing  upon  it  and  singing  in 
the  middes  of  a  company  of  women,  although  he 
coulde  doe  it  reasonablye  well.  And  that,  because 
suche  songes  conteine  in  them  wordes  of  love,  and 
in  olde  men  love  is  a  thing  to  bee  jested  at.**^^ 

About  love  making  by  their  juniors,  however, 
the  old  have  much  to  say.  They  are  very  apt  to 
make  the  match  or  at  least  to  pass  on  it.  They 
give  instruction  too  on  sex  habits  in  general,  and 
violation  of  their  rules  they  usually  penalize. 
The  code  they  lay  down  for  their  juniors  is  apt 
to  differ  from  their  own.  At  the  corrobborees 
of  the  Narran-ga,  the  old  men  took  at  pleasure 
any  of  the  young  wives  of  the  class  they  had  a 
right  to  marry  into,  whereas  if  a  young  man 
wanted  such  a  loan  he  had  to  give  his  own  wife 
in  exchange.  ^^  Among  the  Dieri  only  the  older 
men,  they  who  have  passed  through  the  Mindari 
ceremony,  have  the  right  of  piraru  or  group 
marriage.  3 '^  It  is  customary  for  a  M*kiku3ru 
not  to  add  to  his  three  wives  until  his  first-bom 
child  is  taken  into  the  tribe.  ^^  Even  when  there 
is  no  formal  limitation  for  the  younger  men,  the 
Elders  are  often  the  only  men  rich  enough  to  be 
unhampered  polygynists  or  polygynists  at  all. 
Sometimes  indeed  the  juniors  cannot  afford  even 


1 86  Fear  and  Conventionality 

one  wife;  they  may  be  without  enough  to  marry 
on  at  all,  having  to  live  in  poverty-stricken  celi- 
bacy, poor  old  bachelors.  Under  such  circum- 
stances the  theory  of  not  coveting  your  neighbour's 
wife  becomes  of  course  very  important — to  the 
peace  of  the  Elders.  To  ensure  it,  they  find  that 
it  is  well  to  separate  the  youths  more  or  less  from 
the  women — sometimes  for  months,  sometimes  for 
years — ^and  to  impress  upon  them,  particularly 
at  initiation,  when  the  youths  are  most  under 
their  thumb,  the  impropriety  of  interfering  with 
other  men's  women,  let  alone  its  disastrous  con- 
sequences, juridical  and  supernatural. 

The  Elders  are  able  to  attach  a  supernatural 
sanction  to  marriage  as  well  as  to  any  other  custom 
they  may  cherish  because  supernaturalism  has 
ever  been  largely  under  their  control.  They  are 
the  heads  of  totemic  cults,  of  secret  societies,  of 
religious  hierarchies.  From  these  organizations 
the  young  are  wholly  excluded  or  admitted  to  a 
membership  more  or  less  restricted.  Ohiyesa, 
alias  Charles  A.  Eastman,  a  Sioux,  writes  that  his 
grandmother  told  him  that  were  the  medicine- 
men to  discover  him  and  the  other  little  boys 
playing  "medicine  dance,"  they  would  shrivel  up 
their  limbs  with  slow  disease.  ^^  The  young  have 
little  to  do  at  any  rate  with  the  gods  or  their 


A.^e-Cla88es  187 

proxies.  Once  when  because  of  his  wrong  diag- 
nosis a  Wagogo  medicine-man  was  ridiculed  by 
the  friends  of  his  patient,  an  adult  woman,  he 
told  them  that  they  were  too  young  to  have  con- 
sulted him.-**  If  a  Caff  re  child  have  an  ominous 
dream,  he  tells  his  mother  and  she  intercedes  for 
him  with  the  appropriate  spirits. ^^  "Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me"  is  far  from  being  a 
wide-spread  dictate  among  the  gods. 

In  all  ancestral  cults  it  is  the  oldest  member 
or  members  of  the  family  who  are  responsible  to 
the  family  ghosts.  Food  for  the  ghosts  of  the 
Islands  of  Torres  Straits  is  collected  and  spread 
out  for  them  only  by  the  old  men.^-*  "It  is  a 
strange  notion  which  prevails  in  the  world,  that 
reHgion  only  belongs  to  the  old,"  writes  Hannah 
More,*s  more  perplexed  than  she  would  have  been 
had  she  known  more  about  the  Islands  of  Torres 
Straits.  But  even  in  her  own  island  the  clergy 
are  no  longer  young  when  they  hold  high  office. 
Then  too  preferment  in  the  Church  of  England  as 
in  any  hierarchy  is  optional  with  the  elders.  It  is 
too  in  secret  societies  whose  membership  is  selec- 
tive. <^  Even  in  Australia  where  as  a  rule  every 
youth  may  pass  through  every  stage  of  initiation, 
among  the  Dieri  only  a  certain  number  of  youths 
are  picked,  and  they  are  picked  by  the  Elders^  for  the 


1 88  Fear  and  Conventionalitx 

rite  of  kulpi  or  sub-incision  which  qualifies  them 
to  hold  the  important  positions  of  the  tribe — to  be 
the  tribal  emissaries,  the  leading  dancers  at  the 
corrobborees,  and  in  time  members  of  the  "great 
council."'*'  What  attributes  in  the  Dieri  youths 
influence  the  Elders  in  their  selection  we  are  not 
told,  but  among  them  are  no  doubt  the  very  traits 
which  lead  older  men  among  ourselves  to  give 
positions  in  business  or  in  the  professions  to 
young  men  of  promise — a  modest  and  respectful 
bearing,  ingratiating  ways  with  older  people,  con- 
formity in  general  to  the  standards  set  youth  by  age. 
Membership  in  the  Dieri  council  is  not  only 
determined  by  the  original  selection  of  the  Eld- 
ers; the  candidates  themselves  have  to  be  of  an 
advanced  age.  Statecraft  like  supematuralism 
is  ever  largely  in  the  hands  of  the  Elders.  Very 
primitive  societies  like  the  Australian  are  indeed 
absolute  gerontocracies.  Their  only  government 
is  a  council  of  the  Elders.  At  their  meetings  no 
young  man*   may  speak.'**    Even  under  chief- 

*  Nor  is  their  opinion  ever  to  any  extent  considered.  In 
Victoria,  for  example,  they  are  under  no  circumstances  allowed 
part  in  so  important  a  matter  as  planning  for  intertribal  visits. 
(Smyth,  i,  133.) 

"Put  not  yong  men  in  authority  that  are  to  prowde  and  lyght," 

(Furnivall,  p.  95)  is  a  line  that  undoubtedly  expresses  the  Black- 
fellow  as  well  as  the  early  English  point  of  view. 


^^e-Classes  189 

tancy  or  monarchy  a  council  of  the  elder  statesmen 
or  senators  is  influential.  Membership  in  the 
government  of  a  democracy  may  also  be  condi- 
tioned by  age.  None  is  eligible  to  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States  under  thirty  or  to  the  Supreme 
Court  or  the  Presidency  under  thirty-five.  In 
the  Soudanese  democracy  of  Wadai  although 
young  men  may  be  present  at  the  council,  they 
have  little  influence  and  seldom  speak.  ^^  Like 
well  trained  children  they  are  seen  but  not  heard. 
But  outside  of  council  meetings  speech  is 
standardized  by  age.  According  to  the  Li  Kt 
no  well-bred  Chinaman  will  introduce  in  conversa- 
tion, "irregularly"  is  the  word,  a  subject  on  which 
his  senior  has  not  touched.  And  it  is  contrary 
to  his  sense  of  propriety  when  his  elder  asks  a 
question  not  to  answer  it,  although  belittling  at 
the  same  time  his  ability,  s"  In  few  savage  tribes 
will  a  young  man  express  an  opinion  before  his 
elders,  if  he  expresses  it  at  all,  without  much 
caution  and  a  show  of  diffidence.  Among  the 
Sioux  he  does  not  speak  at  all  unless  he  is  spoken 
to. 5'  "You  would  not  talk  of  your  pleasures  to 
men  of  a  certain  age, "  writes  Lord  Chesterfield,  ^*  a 
"mark  of  deference  and  regard"  youth  still  pays 
to  age,  even  if  age  has  begun  to  question  it.  "Just 
as  I  have  weeded  my  talk  a  hundred  times  out  of 


190  Fear  and  Conventionality 

respect  to  the  young,  these  dear  children  weed 
their  talk  from  respect  to  the  old, "  writes  a  modern 
old  lady  in  a  vehement  protest  against  being  talked 
at  or  for  whenever  she  joins  a  circle  of  polite  young 
people."  This  particular  old  lady  does  not  refer, 
like  most  old  people,  to  a  dislike  for  current  slang 
— she  is  perhaps  too  young  to  feel  it.  But  such 
verbal  novelties  are  apt  to  be  spared  the  ears  of 
seniors.  Children  on  the  other  hand  are  often 
told  not  to  use  "grownup"  words.  *' You  talk 
like  your  grandfather,"  or  "like  a  little  old 
woman,"  is  said  in  ridicule  to  a  "precocious" 
boy  or  girl.  "Lie"  is  generally  held  to  be  a  word 
unbecoming  to  a  child's  mouth;  "fib"  is  a  better 
word  for  them  to  use.  Similarly  for  many  other 
simple  acts  or  objects  there  are  nursery  para- 
phrases. 

Besides  the  expurgation  of  vocabularies  or  of 
topics  of  conversation,  there  are  many  other 
particulars  of  behaviour  age  determines.  In 
Victoria  in  visiting  a  camp  the  oldest  man  of  the 
company  walks  first,  the  younger  men  following,  s-* 
The  Elikuyu  warrior  for  whom  the  girls  stand 
aside,  himself  stands  aside  for  old  women,  ss  A 
Masai  warrior  dare  not  greet  an  elder  until  the 
elder  has  greeted  him.^^  "In  meeting  your 
elderly  friends  in  the  street,"  counsels  the  Young 


i\£(e-Cla8ses  191 

Lady's  Friend y^''  "look  at  them  enough  to  give 
them  the  opportunity  of  recognizing  you;  and  if 
they  do  so,  return  their  salutation  respectfully, 
not  with  the  familiar  nod  you  would  give  to  one  of 
your  own  age." — ** Never  lounge  on  a  sofa  or 
rocking-chair,"  the  early  Victorian  continues, 
"whilst  there  are  those  in  the  room  whose  years 
give  them  a  better  claim  to  that  sort  of  indulgence." 
Mabuiag  lads  are  instructed  not  to  stand  upright 
in  the  presence  of  the  old  men.^^  Among  the 
Mpongwe  the  young  may  never  approach  the  old 
or  even  pass  their  huts  without  crouching  with 
head  bared.  They  may  not  sit  down  near  them 
nor  hand  them  anything  without  dropping  on  one 
knee.  5'  The  Chinaman  has  to  carry  a  stool  and 
a  staff  for  the  use  of  his  elder.  When  following 
him  he  must  keep  his  head  turned  in  the  same 
direction  the  elder  is  looking.*^**  The  Hebrew 
was  taught  "to  rise  up  before  the  hoary  head," 
and  we  teach  our  children  to  stand  when  their 
elders  enter  the  room. 

"  Loke,  my  son,  that  thow  not  sytte 
Tylle  the  ruler  of  the  hous  the  bydde."*' 

At  the  table  our  elders  are  always  served  first. 
In  China  until  an  elder  has  emptied  his  cup,  a 
junior  "does  not  presume  to  drink  his."^*    Under 


192  Fear  and  Conventionality 

no  circumstances  may  a  Wemba  ask  his  senior 
for  a  smoke.  All  he  can  do  is  to  sit  down  near 
the  older  man  and  look  wistful/^  Nor  does  a 
Corean^4  or  a  Pueblo  Indian*  smoke  before  his 
father. 

In  graver  ways  too  "grey  hairs"  have  to  be 
considered.  They  are  a  protection  against  the 
vehemence  of  youth.  Once  during  a  general  row 
in  a  group  of  Blackfellows,  Spencer  and  Gillen 
saw  one  of  the  younger  men,  i.e,  a  man  between 
thirty-five  and  forty,  a  medicine-man  too,  try  to 
shake  one  of  the  older  men.  At  once,  at  this 
serious  offence,  his  precious  medicine  powers  left 
him.^s  Assault  of  an  elder  is  hateful  to  the  gods, 
opines  Plato  in  urging  that  vSeniors  by  twenty 
years  never  be  molested — "out  of  reverence  to  the 
gods  who  preside  over  birth."  ^^  This  platonic  ad- 
monition is  lived  up  to  very  practically  by  the 
Bushongo  of  the  Congo.  A  Bushongo  elder  has 
only  to  put  his  stick  across  the  doorway  of  a  hut  to 
close  it  against  intruders  ^^  and  protect  himself,  if 
need  be,  against  his  juniors. 

Classification  by  age  serves  not  only  as  a  barrier 
between  persons  of  different  age;  it  provides  or 


*  Unless  his  fatherhas  become  *' Americanized."  Moreover 
to  American  cigarettes  the  rule  appears  at  times,  I  have  noticed, 
not  to  apply. 


A^e-Classes  193 

enforces  companionship  between  those  of  the  same 
age.  Among  the  Koita  a  very  close  relationship 
called  henamo  is  formed  between  boys*  bom  on 
the  same  day  or,  where  the  definition  has  been 
stretched,  about  the  same  time,  their  fathers 
having  exchanged  presents  at  their  birth.  ^* 
Among  the  Kurnai  all  the  lads  who  have  gone 
through  the  Jerail  initiation  rites  at  the  same  time 
are  accounted  brothers.  Married,  each  addresses 
the  wives  and  offspring  of  the  others  as  "wife** 
and  " child.*' ^'^  In  South  Africa  the  contempora- 
ries of  the  son  of  a  chief  are  circumcised  together 
with  him  at  puberty,  and  all  become  his  lifelong 
companions.  Their  brotherhood  takes  his  name. 
Members  of  Bechuana  brotherhoods  are  supposed 
never  to  give  evidence  against  one  another  and 
always  to  share  their  food  with  one  another.  7** 
With  us  ties  between  classmates  are  not  as  lasting 
or  as  close,  although  boys  are  sent  to  school  or 
college  primarily  very  often  to  learn  "how  to  get 
on  with  other  boys."  Periodic  class  reunions, 
however,  are  ceremonially  maintained;  many  men 
are  able  to  cherish  classmate  sentiment  for  a 
fellow  without  having  any  other  interest  in  him 

*  Girls  may  become  henamo  in  the  same  way  as  boys;  but  the 
relationship  is  by  no  means  as  serious.     It  is  often  allowed  to 
drop  when  one  of  the  girls  marries.    Girls,  it  is  said,  are  no  good 
for  henamo. 
13 


194         Fear  and  Conventionality- 
whatsoever,  and  it  is  generally  considered  more 
difficult  to  refuse  a  money  loan  to  a  classmate 
than  to  another. 

In  Uripiv,  there  are  ten  age-classes  and  every 
male  has  to  mess  with  his  own.''^  Among  the 
Makalaka,  north  of  the  Zambesi,  the  tribal  elders 
eat  together.  So  do  the  young  men  and  the  boys. "" 
Married  people  among  the  Andamanese  give  din- 
ners to  which  girls*  and  young  men  are  not  in- 
vited.'^^  At  our  dinner  parties,  even  when  they 
are  invited,  they  may  be  expected  to  keep  more 
or  less  to  themselves.  The  girls  have  **  jokes  and 
stories  in  a  corner  by  themselves,  whilst  the 
matrons  discourse  of  their  own  affairs.  .  ,  . 
Presently  .  .  .  the  gentlemen  come  dropping  in, 
the  young  ones  first  and  the  politicians  last.'*'^ 
At  women*s  lunch  parties  girls  and  matrons  are 
still  more  segregated.  "What  is  the  girl  like?'* 
a  while  ago  I  asked  a  woman  who  had  been 
visiting  a  mutual  acquaintance,  the  mother  of  a 
debutante.  "I  don't  really  know.  I  hardly  ever 
saw  her,"  was  the  answer.  **She  had  so  many 
engagements  she  did  not  lunch  with  us  once 
during  my  visit." 

On  many  occasions  besides  feasting  or  the  daily 
meal    age-classes    keep    together.      The    Uripiv 

*  See  p.  113  for  the  Japanese  custom. 


i\^e-Classe8  195 

age-classes  sleep  as  well  as  eat  together.  In  a 
Masai  kraal  the  huts  are  grouped  together  ac- 
cording to  the  age  of  their  tenants,  and  away 
from  home  a  tribesman  must  seek  for  hospitality 
among  the  huts  of  those  of  his  own  age.  He  is 
never  denied,  because  a  Masai  fears  were  he 
churlish  he  would  be  cursed  by  his  age-class  and 
die.  75  Among  the  Massim  at  Bartle  Bay  the 
members  of  the  same  kimta*  also  show  one 
another  hospitality.  The  women  of  the  same 
kimta  go  fishing  together;  the  men  hunt  together 
and  co-operate  in  irrigation  work.  The  old  men  of 
the  Massim  have  their  own  potuma  or  club  house,  ^^ 
and  in  some  of  our  club  houses  there  are,  I  am 
told,  old  men*s  comers.  "Just  as  I  see  my  son 
serving  the  friends  of  his  own  age  and  allied  with 
him  in  his  affairs,  '*  remarks  an  elderly  Roman,  in 
one  of  the  plays  of  Terence,  "so  it's  right  we  old 
fellows  should  gratify  other  old  fellows."'^  The 
Zulus  of  Angoni  go  to  war  in  companies  divided 
by  age.'^^  The  military  conscription  of  Europe  is 
based  on  age.  Dancing  as  well  as  campaigning 
may  be  affected  by  age.  Until  recently f  in  the 
United  States  at  dances  for  young  people  the 
matrons  sat  apart,  sometimes  in  seats  especially 

*  Age-class  of  children  born  in  every  period  of  about  two  years, 
t  Before  the  introduction  of  "turkey  trotting." 


196         Fear  and  Conventionality 

assigned  to  them,  it  being  "undignified"  at  their 
age  to  dance.  The  Kikuyu  matron  does  not  go 
to  dances  even  to  look  on.  Her  husband  takes 
part  in  them  as  long  as  he  has  only  one  child ;  but 
she  gives  them  up  as  soon  as  she  is  married.'' 

Is  it  not  apparent  how  much  well-defined  age- 
classes  simplify  life — at  least  from  the  primitive 
point  of  view — and  why  any  tampering  with  their 
boundaries  Hke  that  attributed  to  Dr.  Osier,  for 
example,  or  like  the  recent  changes  in  the  age 
limits  for  federal  labourers  and  federal  judges  can 
be  so  disturbing  and  arouse  so  much  criticism? 
Upsetting  as  such  changes  may  be,  they  are,  how- 
ever, nothing  like  as  distressing  as  doing  away 
with  age-classes  altogether.  "All  the  men  and 
women  in  Paris  are  of  uncertain  years!"  exclaims 
Zeyneb  Hanoum,^"  her  dismay  and  resentment 
unconcealed.  Although  in  kindly  moments  we 
may  describe  a  woman  as  not  showing  her  age  or 
as  being  the  age  she  looks,  when  we  feel  less 
complimentary  do  we  too  not  refer  to  her  more  or 
less  derisively  as  of  an  uncertain  age? 


XVI 

CONCERNING  GHOSTS  AND  GODS 

WE  have  noted  primitive  man's  desire  to  run 
away  from  or  to  exorcise  his  ghosts. 
Rarely  does  he  show  any  desire  for  intimacy  with 
them.  This  does  not  mean  of  course  that  relations 
with  them  are  supposed  to  cease.  Their  aid  is 
sought,  their  anger  deplored,  their  malice  out- 
witted. They  hang  about,  it  is  thought,  to  be 
appeased,  placated,  flattered.  But  all  such  rela- 
tions are  readily  depersonalized.  Funeral  and 
mourning  practices  are  ever  highly  conventional. 
In  the  first  place  because,  death  being  as  we  say  a 
shock,  a  round  of  ceremonies  disguises  or  at  least 
postpones  the  necessity  of  readjustment  both  for 
the  mourners  themselves  and  for  those  who  would 
otherwise  be  disturbed  by  the  mourners*  state  of 
mind.  But  in  the  second  place  because  formal 
manners  are  the  easiest  way  of  showing  the  dead 
as  well  as  the  living  their  place. 

Funeral  and  mourning  practices  would  of  them- 
197 


198  Fear  and  Conventionality 

selves  keep  the  dead  at  a  distance  since  they  make 
communication  with  the  living  difficult,*  but 
ghosts  are  also  given  to  understand  explicitly 
that  they  may  communicate  with  the  living  only 
at  set  times  or  places  and  often  only  through 
appointed  persons.  Ghosts  are  generally  ex- 
pected not  to  walk,  not  to  wander  from  the  locality 
of  their  grave  or  shrine;  but  there  to  receive  the 
ceremonial  visits  of  their  friends  and  accept  their 
attentions.  A  ghost  who  haunts  a  place  to  which 
he  has  not  been  invited  runs  the  risk  of  being 
shown  quite  pointedly  that  he  is  intruding.  Then 
a  ghost  may  be  expected  to  be  *'at  home"  only  at 
set  times — at  midnight,  on  the  anniversary  of  his 
death  or  on  the  day  of  the  week — the  arpatztwl, 
the  Todas  call  it, ' — at  the  anthesteriay  on  All  Soul's 
night,  at  death  feasts.  His  resurrection  may  even 
be  postponed  to  as  indefinite  a  time  as  the  "sound- 
ing of  the  last  trump."  At  death  or  memorial 
feasts  ghosts  have  to  appear,,  when  they  appear 

*  Whatever  may  be  the  reason  for  wearing  cr^pe  veils  or 
clothes  of  special  cut  or  colour,  the  pipeclay  the  mourning  Black- 
fellow  smears  on  his  body  or  the  chaplet  of  bones  his  widow 
hangs  over  her  face  look  very  much  like  disguises  from  the  ghost. 
Taboos  against  naming  the  dead  or  unwillingness  to  talk  about 
them  except  in  the  past  tense  take  their  absence,  to  say  the  least, 
for  granted.  When  alms  are  given  or  prayers  said  for  them  to 
shorten  their  stay  in  purgatory,  their  banishment  from  our  circle 
is  certainly  not  left  in  doubt. 


Concerning  GHosts  and  Oods      199 

at  all,  in  the  person  of  appointed  representatives. 
They  themselves  have  no  choice.  At  other  times 
representatives,  i.  e,  mouthpieces  or  mediums  are 
also  selected  for  them,  sometimes  their  widow,  ac- 
tual or  ceremonial,*  sometimes  the  head  of  their 
family  group,  sometimes  the  priest  in  ordinary. 
Gods,  whether  nature  spirits  or  ghosts  par- 
ticularly distinguished  or  long-remembered,  have 
more  freedom  than  the  average  ghost.  But 
boundaries  are  set  for  them  too,  sometimes  a 
lake  or  a  mountain  peak,  sometimes  an  image 
or  a  temple,  sometimes  a  given  bodily  function 
or  disease,  sometimes  merely  the  boundaries  of 
science.  The  Haytians  told  Peter  Martyr  that 
one  of  their  gods  was  such  a  rover  that  they  had 
to  chain  him  down  in  a  room  at  the  top  of  their 
chief's  house.  ^  Omnipresence  is  an  attribute 
few  gods  indeed  are  possessed  of.  Gods  too  are 
usually  in  charge  of  special  persons  who  act  as 
their  go-between  with  the  public.  The  keeping 
of  private  spirits  is  generally  discouraged* — 
sometimes  mildly  as  in  the  excommunication  of 
Christian  Gnostic,  Pietist,  or  Protestant,  some- 

*  There  are  of  course  exceptions.  One  of  the  functions  of  the 
Gold  Coast  medicine-man  is  to  make  a  personal  fetish  for  ap- 
plicants. The  Tonga  Islander  has  a  tutelar  god,  the  Catholic 
a  patron  saint,  the  Jew  a  good  angel  and  a  bad,  and  the  North 
American  Indian  a  manitou. 


200  Fear  and  Conventionality 

times  more  violently  as  in  the  burning  or  drown- 
ing of  the  medieval  witch  over-familiar  with  Satan 
or  one  of  his  minions.  Again  like  ghosts  gods  are 
kept  in  their  place  through  ceremonial.  They 
have  to  receive  visits  and  accept  presents  quite 
as  formally  as  royalty.  The  compliments  paid 
to  them  are  set  too,  for  divine  attributes  and 
powers  are  unchanging.  Representing  as  they  do 
a  specific  quality  or  force,  the  favours  asked  of 
them  are  naturally  always  of  the  same  order. 
Steadfast  in  their  functions,  the  gods  are  credited 
too  with  steadfast  views  or  convictions.  They 
are  invariably  conservatives.  They  may  be  given 
the  privilege  of  an  occasional  change  of  heart  or 
of  temper,  but  their  mind  they  may  not  change. 
Hence  conformity  with  their  unvarying  opinions 
is  judged  pleasing  to  them  and  they  are  expected 
to  feel  aggrieved  or  dishonoured  by  non-conformity. 
Their  habits  being  fixed,  they  are  highly  suscepti- 
ble to  insult  and  they  have  a  very  nice  sense  of 
the  honour  due  them. 

Many  other  himian  traits  besides  the  desire 
to  be  imitated  or  agreed  with  or  considered  are 
ascribed,  we  know,  to  the  gods.  The  more  they 
resemble  their  worshippers,  the  more  sjmipathetic 
and  accessible  they  appear.  Hence  even  nature 
or  animal  gods  are  likely  to  become  anthropo- 


Concerning;  GHosts  and  Gods     201 

morphous,  and  gods  of  all  kinds  tend  to  be  assimi- 
lated in  one  way  or  another  with  their  priests. 
But  because  of  this  very  humanizing  of  the  gods 
there  is  always  a  certain  amount  of  danger  in 
dealing  with  them.  They  may  be  superhumanly 
conservative,  but  their  temper  is  human  enough 
to  be  uncertain.  Tact  and  resourcefulness  are  re- 
quired of  their  mouthpieces  or  managers. 

In  all  but  effete  cults  priestcraft  is  indeed  an 
exacting  pursuit,  and  one  none  too  safe.  Priests 
have  had  to  take  chances.  There  are  the  gods 
themselves,  fickle,  if  conservative,  and  then  there 
are  their  worshippers,  exacting  if  not  critical. 
Failure  to  forestall  events  or  in  emergencies  to  turn 
the  heart  of  the  god  readily  embroils  a  priest  with 
his  people.  In  times  of  tempest  or  flood  or  drought, * 
of  famine  or  blight,  of  sickness  or  epidemic,  of 
war,  the  priest  may  be  held  responsible.  It  is  easy 
for  him  to  be  discredited  and  to  fall  into  disrepute. 
Then,  too,  whenever  he  is  suspected  of  practising 
black  magic,  he  naturally  makes  bitter  enemies. 

It  may  take  not  only  courage  to  be  a  priest,  but 
in  primitive  society  a  spirit  of  adventure.  A  medi- 
cine-man, as  we  have  noted,  is  usually  an  explorer 

•Weather  doctoring  is  particularly  hazardous.  The  rain 
makers  for  the  tribe,  Soudanese  chiefs  lose  their  position,  for 
eiample,  when  they  lose  their  skill.    (Wilson  and  Felkin,  i,  82.) 


202  Fear  and  Conventionality 

of  more  than  one  world,  besides  being  an  adept  in 
reincarnating  himself  in  other  creatures,  animal  or 
human.  But  more  than  this,  he  has  to  have  the 
hardiness  to  stand  alone  and  to  be  more  or  less 
shunned  by  his  fellows.  In  the  first  place,  isola- 
tion, he  knows,  is  necessary  to  his  prestige.  In 
the  second  place,  he  betakes  too  much  of  the 
nature  of  his  god,  his  people  feel,  for  ordinary, 
comfortable  social  intercourse,  and  so  they  will- 
ingly '* observe  the  dignity  of  his  cloth."  It  is 
not  to  every  social  gathering  among  us  a  minister 
is  invited  and  to  avoid  the  bad  luck  of  meeting  his 
priest  on  the  road  a  Russian  peasant,  it  is  said, 
will  go  considerably  out  of  his  way. 

Given  a  gregarious  life,  courage  to  stand  being 
left  alone  undoubtedly  gives  a  priest  prestige,  but 
after  all  it  is  his  taking  of  responsibility  which 
gives  him  his  great  hold  on  primitive  society. 
Through  his  own  initiative  with  deity  he  enables 
the  layman  to  have  a  sense  of  being  on  good  terms 
with  the  gods  without  having  to  enter  into  close 
and  so  trying  relations  with  them.  In  other 
words  the  priest  is  an  expert — the  first  expert 
indeed.  From  him  all  our  other  social  experts 
have  been  differentiated.*    But  however  diverse 

*  To  become  his  rivals.  The  clerical  hold  weakens  with  the 
social  recognition  of  every  new  kind  of  secular  expert.     May  not 


Concerning  GKosts  and  Oods     203 

their  enterprises,  their  value  to  society  is  funda- 
mentally the  same  as  his.  They  all  relieve  the 
average  man  of  the  necessity  of  thinking  for  him- 
self, of  being  bothered,  of  making  new  adjust- 
ments, of  breaking  down  his  habits.  All  he  has 
to  do  in  a  trying  place  is  to  take  the  advice  of 
the  expert,  i.e.  satisfy  his  old  instinct  of  imitation. 
In  the  contrivances  of  the  supernatural  expert 
much  of  the  social  character  we  have  been  study- 
ing is  seen  at  its  plainest.  Dealing  only  with 
imaginary  beings,  priestcraft  has  been  unchecked 
in  carrying  out  the  collective  conceptions  of 
society.  In  priestcraft  the  play  of  collective 
theory  has  been  unthwarted  by  iconoclastic 
rebels  and  unmoved  by  physical  conditions.*  It 
has  succeeded  in  modelling  the  gods  as  men  would, 
if  they  could,  model  themselves.  Man  has  not 
made  his  gods  in  his  own  image  but  in  the  image 
he  would  see  of  himself,  unchanging  beings,  with 
set  characteristics,  with  set  interests  in  a  stable 
milieUy  with  habits  undisturbed,  devoid  of  person- 
ality. The  appeal  to  such  beings  is  simple  and 
manifest.  One  can  always  know  what  will  inter- 
est them  and  how  they  stand. 

irreligion  be  defined  as  the  following  of  lay  leaders  or  as  depend- 
ence upon  the  pragmatic  in  place  of  the  religious  ecologist? 

*  We  have  here,  I  think,  an  explanation  of  the  conservatism 
of  the  churches,  of  the  conservative  nature  of  religion. 


204  Fear  and  Conventionality 

This  knowledge  is  doubly  important  about  the 
gods  because,  no  matter  how  anthropomorphic 
they  are,  they  do  differ  and  differ  greatly  from 
men.  To  be  of  service  to  man,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  they  must  differ;  supernatural  powers 
must  be  theirs.  From  this  supernaturalism  they 
are  inevitably  fearful.  Hence  in  fear  of  them  as 
supematurals,  a  class  apart,  the  usual  class-bar- 
riers are  resorted  to,  formalities  of  time  and 
place,  of  habit  and  posture,  of  speech,  of  generaliza- 
tion, and,  in  the  case  of  the  gods  most  important 
of  all,  the  barrier  of  a  special  class  of  servants  or 
guardians.  It  is  the  paramount  duty  of  this  class 
to  guarantee  that  from  the  fearfulness  of  change- 
ability or  of  personality  in  their  gods  at  least  men 
may  be  spared. 


xvir^ 

AN  UNCONVENTIONAL  SOCIETY 

IT  appears  then  that  Society  is  the  compromise 

*     it  is  always  said  to  be, — a  compromise  to 

gratify    naturally    inconsistent    inclinations,    the 

instinct  of  gregariousness  and   the  instinct  for 

routine.*    Companionship  it  supplies,  but  only 

the   kind   of   companionship   warranted   not   to 

derange  habits  or  influence  personality.    Against 

the  psychical  changes  naturally  resulting  from 

personal  contacts  society  sets  its  face.     Its  means 

are  simple.     It  raises  up  barriers  between  the 

unlike,  restricting  companionship  to  those  it  ac- 

coimts  alike,  to   those  of  the  same  age  or  sex, 

of  the  same  calling,  of  the  same  house,  tribe,  caste, 

or    coimtry.     Individual    variations    within    the 

group  it  ignores  or  persecutes. 

*  When  the  routine  of  the  individual  is  just  the  same  as  his 
group's,  it  is  of  course  not  incompatible  with  the  completest 
kind  of  gregariousness.  It  might  well  be  held  indeed  that  the 
instinct  for  routine  was  an  outcome  in  part  at  least  of  the  gregar- 
ious instinct,  that  of  our  own  accord  we  do  nothing  "diflFerently" 
because  others  do  not,  that  we  do  as  others  do  the  better  to 
be  with  them. 

205 


206  Fear  and  Conventionalitx 

From  the  remotest  times  homogeneous  groups 
have  been  numerically  increasing,  but  it  was 
only  the  other  day,  comparatively  speaking,  that 
the  barriers  between  the  heterogeneous,  between 
those  tmlike  in  status,  were  ever  called  into  ques- 
tion. The  conception  of  personality  distinct  from 
status  is  also  recent.  Conception  and  arraignment 
spell  social  revolution  on  a  great  scale,  for  do  they 
not  mean  that  dread  of  change  is  no  longer  the 
controlling  social  factor  it  was? 

How  has  this  momentous  change  itself  come 
about?  Largely,  it  seems  to  me,  through  the 
passing  of  social  control  into  younger  hands;  and 
youth  is  less  averse  than  age  to  change.  Thanks 
to  modern  economy,  persons  of  leisure,  the  only 
persons  free  to  direct  social  adaptations,  are  no 
longer  almost  certain  to  be  old.  Younger  men 
and  women*  recruit  the  leisure  class.  There  is 
also  more  leisure  in  the  lives  of  all  younger  persons 
and  therefore  more  opportunity  for  them  all  for 
self-direction  in  social  relations.  They  have  be- 
gun to  slip  from  under  the  yoke  of  their  elders. 

Gerontocracy  has  had  a  grave  blow  too  in  the 
decay  of  supernaturalism.     Ghost  cults  necessarily 

*  Outside  of  our  culture,  of  course,  younger  women  have 
recruited  the  leisure  class,  but  they  have  been  too  ignorant 
comparatively,  or  too  exhausted  by  child-bearing,  or  too  bound 
by  caste  restrictions,  to  count  as  social  leaders. 


An  Unconventional  Society       207 

give  prestige  to  those  on  the  verge  of  becoming 
ghosts  themselves.  Then  the  deceased  Elders, 
bound  by  the  sense  of  their  age-class,  or  in  well- 
developed  ancestor  worship  by  their  recognition 
of  family  succession,  are  always  expected  to  back 
up  their  living  contemporaries  or  successors.  In 
still  other  ways  the  authority  of  the  old  has 
been  affected  by  the  passing  of  supematuralism. 
Supematuralism  depended  much  on  tradition 
— ^after  as  well  as  before  the  use  of  writing — and 
as  the  memories  of  the  old  were  the  depositories 
of  tradition  the  Elders  always  commandeered 
important  places  in  all  magical  or  religious  sys- 
tems. Through  these  systems  eariy  society  is 
largely  controlled.  Upon  them  depend,  people 
think,  plant  and  animal  reproduction,  birth  and 
death  and  health,  success  in  hunting,  in  fighting, 
in  adventuring  of  any  kind.  But  the  time  comes 
when  supematuralism  has  to  relinquish  its  claims 
to  control  nature  and  through  nature  society, 
and  then  the  magical  or  religious  parts  once  so 
potently  filled  by  the  old  become  intrinsically 
insignificant.  Whenever  a  totemic  practice  is 
discredited  or  a  nature  ctilt  or  one  of  the  histori- 
cal religions,  the  hold  of  the  Elders  on  society  is 
weakened. 

Undermining  the  influence  of  the  Elders  is  one 


2o8  Fear  and  Conventionality 

of  the  many  indirect  ways  in  which  science*  has 
ever  made  for  social  change.  As  soon  as  science 
is  called  upon  to  effect  social  changes  directly, 
the  status  of  the  Elders  will  be  even  more  radi- 
cally affected.  Much  of  the  routine  of  life  will 
still  be  in  the  hands  of  the  old,  as  much  of  it  as 
possible  in  fact  will  be  turned  over  to  them,  they 
liking  it  and  being  fitted  for  it,  but  no  prestige 
or  authority  will  attach  to  them,  nor  will  their 
work  or  functions  be  accounted  superior.  In 
many  respects  the  old  will  be  better  off  than  they 
were,  but  ^'honour  and  respect"  will  no  longer  be 
a  due  to  grey  hairs  qua  grey  hairs.  Then  as  the 
only  status  the  old  may  set  up  a  claim  to  will  be 
one  of  inferiority,  their  age-class  will  tend  to  dis- 
appear. And  has  it  not  in  fact  already  begun  to 
disappear? 

This  "placing"  of  the  Elders,  their  re- valuation 
or  elimination  as  a  class,  will  of  course  in  turn 
accelerate  social  change.  A  far  greater  accelera- 
tion will  be  due  to  the  frank  determination  by 
scientists  and  by  mere  pragmatists  alike  to  give 
to  social  facts  the  same  consideration  they  give 
to  the  facts  of  nature.  The  determination  once 
reached  and  the  idea  made  a  commonplace  that 

*0r,  as  L6vy-Bruhl  would  say,  the  increase  of  concepts  at  the 
expense  of  mystical,  prelogical  representations. 


An  Unconventional  Society       209 

society  may  control  changes  in  itself  through  \ 
knowledge,  individual  failure  to  change  with 
society  will  be  accounted  cowardice,  clinging  to 
the  habitual,  immorality,  and  the  conservative, 
not  the  progressive,  will  be  ever  on  the  defensive.* 
Very  quickly  then  will  the  social  barriers  we 
have  been  analyzing  disintegrate.  With  willing- 
ness to  change  a  recognized  virtue,  a  criterion  in 
fact  of  morality,  differences  in  others  will  no  longer 
be  recognized  as  troublesome  or  fearful,  at  least 
openly.  Nor  will  presumptions  of  superiority 
or  inferiority  attach  to  differences  per  se,  Ex- 
clusiveness  will  cease  to  be  a  source  of  prestige, 
'Blind  efforts  to  produce  types,  to  secure  homo- 
geneity, will  be  condemned.  Suspicion  of  the 
stranger  qua  stranger  will  disappear.  Intolerance 
will  be  a  crime.  The  point  in  making  everybody 
alike  will  have  been  lost.  Variation  will  be  wel- 
come. There  will  even  be  a  cult  of  variability. 
And  to  this  end  complete  freedom  of  personal 
contacts  will  be  sought.  The  play  of  personality 
upon  personality  will  become  indeed  the  recognized 

♦Professor  Robinson,  I  find,  has  already  put  him  on  the 
defensive.  "At  last,  perhaps,  the  long-disputed  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost  has  been  found;  it  may  be  the  refusal  to  co- 
operate with  the  vital  principle  of  betterment.  History  would 
seem,  in  short,  to  condemn  the  principle  of  conservatism  as  a 
hopeless  and  wicked  anachronism."  {The  New  History,  p.  265. 
New  York,  19 13.) 
14 


2IO  Fear  and  Conventionality 

raison  d'ttre  of  society  instead  of  the  greatest  of 
its  apprehensions. 

In  this  society  the  viability  of  the  world  will  be 
taken  advantage  of.  The  habit  of  living  in  lairs 
will  die  out  and  with  it  the  malady  of  home- 
sickness. We  shall  live  at  large,  truly  mobilized, 
going  where  it  is  best  for  us  to  be,  imperturbed 
by  novel  experience  and  not  safeguarded  against 
it.  Nor  will  our  going  or  coming  be  a  circum- 
stance for  apprehension  or  for  ceremonial  recogni- 
tion. Hospitality  as  we  know  it  will  have  no 
part  to  play.  There  will  be  newcomers,  but  no 
guests;  helpers  in  making  the  newcomers  feel 
at  home,  welcomers,  but  no  hosts.  Without  the 
spirit  of  monopoly  or  exclusiveness,  without  a 
fear  of  strangers,  there  is  no  further  question  of 
hospitality.  There  will  be  on  earth,  we  may  say 
to  the  Christian,  as  in  heaven,  a  relation  merely 
between  the  early  arrival  and  the  late. 

In  this  society^  age  will  not  bully  youth  nor 
youth  misprize  age.  Seniority  having  no  recog- 
nized rights,  the  older  will  have  no  justification  in 
being  tyrannical,  nor  the  younger  in  being  sub- 
missive. Growing  up  will  appear  to  be  not  a 
reaching  out  for  privileges,  but  an  attaining  to 
prowess  and  a  taking  on  of  responsibilities.  Educa- 
tion will  cease  to  be  a  process  of  making  the  young 


An  Unconventional  Society       211 

become  like  their  elders  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  with  the  least  possible  inconvenience  to  the  lat- 
ter. The  young  will  no  longer  be  herded  together 
to  get  them  out  of  the  way,  nor  will  anyone  be 
classified  in  any  way  or  for  any  purpose  by  age. 
Far  surer  individual  tests  will  have  been  devised 
for  proving  ability  or  competency. 

In  this  society  the  impulses  of  sex  will  not  be 
restricted  in  their  expression  to  conjugality,  nor 
will  conjugality  itself  be  considered  as  necessarily 
a  habit  for  a  lifetime.  Marriage  will  be  open 
to  all,  but  it  will  be  approved  of  merely  for  those 
who  find  themselves  in  a  period  of  sexual  indo- 
lence, engaged,  for  example,  in  child-bearing,  or 
in  some  pressing  economic  routine.  Unsuspicious 
of  one  another,  unafraid  of  mutual  influences,  men 
and  women  will  no  longer  avoid  one  another  be- 
cause they  are  different ;  they  will  seek  one  another 
for  the  stimulus  of  their  very  differences,  natural 
differences.  Assumed  or  artificial  differences  being 
unstimulating  will  disappear. 

In  this  society  class  feeling,  the  sense  of  caste, 
will  be  accounted  a  handicap,  a  burdensome 
limitation,  not  a  source  of  distinction  or  propriety. 
"Family  feeling,"  esprit  du  corps,  loyalty  to  the 
organization,  patriotism,  will  cease  to  be  concepts, 
or  should   we    say  representations,    accepted   in 


012  Fear  and  Conventionality 

justification  of  group  prejudice  or  hostility  or 
esteemed  as  motives  for  encroachment  upon  other 
groups.  Sets  of  congenial  persons  there  will  be 
no  doubt  just  as  there  are  now,  persons  who 
from  common  interests  or  for  endless  different 
f/v^  ^  reasons  choose  to  associate  together  as  long  as 
their  interests  remain  the  same  or  their  reasons 
valid — but  no  longer.  For  them  and  for  others 
there  will  be  many  meeting  places  for  social 
intercourse;  but  little  or  no  social  machinery — 
no  "going  into  society,"  no  "round  of  gaieties," 
no  "being  entertained."  Nor  will  ceremonial 
expression  be  required  of  feeling.  In  those  un- 
afraid of  change,  emotion  will  not  have  to  be  dis- 
sembled* under  ceremonies  or  alleviated  by  them. 
Wedding  and  funeral,  birthday  and  other  anni- 
versary celebration,  all  our  ceremonial  boundary 
marks,  will  be  less  and  less  called  for.     And  with 

*  "  But  may  not  the  undissembled  show  of  emotion  in  others 
still  be  disturbing?"  I  may  be  asked,  "and  for  reasons  other 
than  dread  of  change,  because  of  envy  or  jealousy,  because 
emotion  in  another  may  infringe  unpleasantly  in  all  manner  of 
ways  upon  our  own  state  of  mind?  After  all,  do  not  manners, 
in  spite  of  their  cumbersome  trappings,  express  consideration 
for  the  state  of  mind  of  the  other,  a  state  of  mind  that  may  be 
quite  unaffected  by  sex  or  age  or  position,  and  that  he  is  en- 
tirely entitled  to  maintain?"  "True,"  I  rejoin,  "and  it  is  to 
personal  reticence  I  look,  to  a  very  great  enhancement  of  it,  as  a 
substitute  in  these  ways  for  ceremonial  or  conventionalities. 
And  with  an  enhanced  reticence  will  go  a  right  to  privacy  in  all 
personal  relationships,  a  right  we  barely  conceive  of  to-day." 


An  Unconventional  Society       213 

their  passing  too  the  ancient  taboos  upon  refer- 
ence to  life  and  death  will  be  lifted,  those  taboos 
of  group,  not  of  personal,  reticence  which  in  our 
modem  society  make  only  for  the  exploitation  of 
emotion.  Nor  will  emotion  be  aroused,  it  is  likely, 
by  the  mere  fact  of  change,  once  change  is  frankly 
envisaged  as  a  continuous  condition. 

And  yet  in  this  society,  needless  to  say,  the  facts 
of  change  and  of  heterogeneity,  age,  sex,  kinship, 
race,  the  characteristics  arising  from  occupation  or 
habitat,  will  not  be  ignored.  They  will  not  singly  or 
in  any  combination  imprison  anyone  in  a  set  sphere, 
they  will  not  create  a  status;  and  only  in  so  far 
as  they  affect  personality  will  they  be  considered; 
but  on  this  very  basis  it  may  be  that  in  many 
cases  they  will  count  even  more  than  they  count 
now.  How  those  who  develop  old  age  traits 
will  fare  we  have  considered.  Moreover  "grow- 
ing old"  of  itself  may  be  discouraged.  With  the 
realisation  that  it  cannot  happen  gracefully  and 
that  there  is  nothing  superior  about  old  age,  it 
will  have  to  be  forgone  as  a  cover  for  slackness 
or  an  excuse  for  selfishness.  And  staying  young 
may  become  more  than  a  frivolity  fit  for  jest. 
Initiative  and  enterprise  will  be  demanded  of 
youth,  enthusiasms  and  joy  in  living  will  be  ex- 
pected of  it,  and  in  it  indifference  or  apathy  will 


214  Fear  and  Conventionality 

be  condemned  and  more  or  less  indirectly  pen- 
alized. Far  more  will  be  expected  of  sex  too, 
I  surmise,  left  free  to  express  itself,  than  under 
any  repressive  system.  Sexual  mistakes  or  vices 
will  become  indefensible  or  wholly  despicable 
once  they  are  clearly  distinguished  from  crime. 
Love  making  will  become  part  of  the  art  of 
living,  and  inexpertness  in  it  a  subject  for  jest 
perhaps  or  for  lament,  but  never  a  virtue  to  be 
boasted  of  or  acclaimed.  And  passionate  love 
will  develop  its  own  restraints,  restraints  more 
compelling  than  those  imposed  by  kin  or  state  or 
church.  Such  love  making  is  incomparably  more 
exacting  than  marriage  in  any  form.  More  will 
be  asked  of  parenthood  too  when  based  on  eu- 
genic facts  than  of  merely  juridical  or  proprietary 
parenthood.  Similarly,  eugenic  ideas  of  mating 
may  give  a  new  and  compelling  significance  to 
stock  or  race.  Race  and  habitat  may  also  play 
new  and  important  parts.  Everyone  may  be 
expected  to  live  in  the  racial  group  where  he  is 
most  worth  while  or  in  the  climate  that  agrees  with 
him  and  keeps  him  at  his  best.  As  for  occu- 
pational characteristics,  once  the  budding  theory 
of  so-called  scientific  management  blossoms,  and 
society  loses  its  grotesque  indifference  to  seeing 
round  pegs  in  square  holes  and  square  in  round, 


An  Unconventional  Society       215 

the  fitting  of  the  individual  to  his  job  may  become 
imperative  and  obligatory.  And  although  a  man 
or  woman  may  have  some  choice  in  work  that  is 
suitable,  work  they  are  unfit  for  they  may  be  quite 
drastically  forbidden. 

Indeed  once  society  becomes  impatient  of  mis- 
fits, of  waste,  of  futilities,  it  will  become  open  to 
the  inroads  of  a  new  kind  of  intolerance,  terrific 
and  appalling.  Pressure  upon  one  as  an  individual 
is  capable  of  becoming  far  more  severe  than  pressure 
upon  one  as  a  member  of  a  class,  and  psychological 
standards  are  ever  more  difficult  to  live  up  to  than 
standards  of  propriety.  Anxious  to  place  the  indi- 
vidual properly  according  to  its  conception  of  his 
individuality  or  personality,  insistent  that  he  make 
the  most  of  himself,  society  might  in  truth  become 
a  very  monster  of  oppression. 

Given  a  purely  intellectual  conception  of  indi- 
viduality or  personality  and  a  purely  rationalistic 
attitude  towards  it,  such  an  outcome  would  be 
perhaps  inevitable.  But  will  society  ever  be 
purely  intellectual  or  rationalistic?  Will  it  not 
develop  a  feeling  for  personality  mitigating  its 
rationalism?  Not  merely  a  feeling  of  toleration 
for  idiosyncrasies,  a  liberal  attitude  met  quite 
commonly  even  nowadays;  but  a  far  more 
positive  feeling,  a  feeling  compounded  of  kindli- 


2i6  Pear  and  Conventionality 

ness  and  gentleness,  affectionate  and  yet  more 
akin  in  its  fearlessness  to  tenderness  or  pity  than 
to  love  or  rather  to  the  love  we  know.  That  love 
depends  on  sympathy,  on  the  sense  of  participa- 
tion; it  emphasizes  the  aspects  we  are  alike  in, 
dissembling  or  ignoring  those  in  which  we  differ. 
It  is  love  despite  fear.  The  feeling  for  personality 
I  am  thinking  of  is  a  perfectly  fearless  love.* 
It  is  not  love  casting  out  fear,  rather  is  it  fear- 
lessness plus  love.  Acknowledging  to  itself  the 
existence  of  human  differences,  but  unapprehen- 
sive of  them,  unanxious,  it  is  a  feeling  distinct 
from  the  democratic  spirit  of  fraternity  or  from 
its  begetter,  that  love  of  one's  fellow  so  appeal- 
ingly  given  voice  on  the  Mount  by  the  Sea  of 
Galilee.  Fully  accepting  the  age-old  idea  that 
men  are  fond  of  their  own  kind  only,  and  to  them 
only  are  good,  Jew  and  Gentile  alike  overlaid 
their  preachment  of  love  with  a  fiction  of  homo- 
geneity. Egalite  was  to  be  uttered  in  the  same 
breath  with  fraternite;  men  were  all  children  of  the 
same  father,  all  equally  entitled  to  his  consid- 
eration, equal  heirs  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
This  Essene  representation  or  sentim^entality 
was  bound,  like  any  other  sentimentality,  to  fail. 

*  Are  you  not  foreseeing  in  this  love  for  personality  a  new 
"mystical,  prelogical representation,"  I  maybe  asked.   Perhaps. 


An  Unconventional  Society       217 

Men  and  women  are  not  alike,  nor  juniors  and 
their  seniors,  nor  money  changers  and  farmers, 
nor  Christians  and  Moslems,  nor  English  and 
Germans,  nor  any  two  human  beings  whatsoever, 
and  social  structures  based  on  the  dogma  of  their 
likeness  have  ever  been  but  buildings  on  the 
sands.  The  wind  of  fear  has  but  to  blow,  the 
tide  of  distrust  to  rise,  and  great  is  the  fall  of 
the  dogmatists. 

Neither  in  Christianity  then  nor  in  democracy 
has  the  feeling  which  for  lack  of  a  better  term  I 
may  call  a  love  for  personality  found  expression. 
Expression  it  does  find,  however,  in  life,  for  it  is 
the  feeling  not  seldom  experienced  for  those  of 
whom  we  have  neither  distrust  nor  fear — imper- 
fectly for  the  very  young,  more  integrally,  in  mod- 
em culture,  for  the  dead.  In  the  society  I  foresee, 
a  society  from  which  so  much  of  our  fear  of  one 
another  will  have  disappeared,  where  self-preserva- 
tion in  so  many  of  its  phases  will  be  accounted  a 
crime  against  nature  and  not  its  first  law,  may 
not  the  gentleness  we  bestow  on  little  children 
outlast  their  infancy  and  the  pity  which  wells  up 
in  us  for  the  dead  spend  itself  on  the  pitiful  among 
the  living?  On  the  shy  child  and  on  all  those 
beset  by  the  miseries  of  shyness;  on  those  who 
never  grow  up  or  feeling  their  age  are  old  before 


2i8  Fear  and  Conventionality 

they  need  be;  on  those  who  heedless  of  the 
treasures  of  passion  have  settled  down  to  a  passion- 
less routine  in  marriage  or  in  celibacy;  on  men 
apprehensive  of  women  or  women  apprehensive 
of  men;  on  men  and  women  of  position  or  of 
property  or  of  cultivation,  and  of  nothing  else; 
on  all  who  pride  themselves  on  birth  or  nationality 
or  race,  on  belonging  to  a  given  calling  or  party 
or  organization — all  victims  of  the  hydra-headed 
obsession  of  group  consciousness ;  on  all  prisoners 
of  the  past,  bound  fast  by  their  own  habits  or 
the  habits  of  others;  on  all  who  in  defence  of 
habit  become  the  proprietors  of  others  only  to 
live  in  constant  dread  of  loss;  on  all  who,  seeking 
mere  companionship,  shun  the  joys  and  sorrows 
of  intimacy;  on  all  who  stay  poor,  too  fearful  of 
others  to  be  enriched  by  them,  too  bewildered  by 
others  to  dare  be  themselves;  and  finally  on  all 
sentimentalists,  those  timid  beings  who  conscious 
of  change  and  yet  resistant  to  it  are  for  ever 
dodging  the  facts  of  life  and  shirking  its  business — 
on  them  and  on  those  they  drag  with  them  behind 
their  vain  defences,  the  empty  moats  and  the  fall- 
ing walls  of  conventionality. 


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6  Parsons,  Elsie  Clews.     The  Family,  p.  141.    New  York 

and  London,  1906 

7  Westermarck,  Marriage,  p.  450 

8  AsTLEY,  ii,  240 

9  Westermarck,  Marriage,  p.  450 

10  Smith,  W.  Robertson.    Kinship  and  Marriage  in  Early 

Arabia,  p.  133.     Cambridge,  1885 

11  Saunderson,  p.  303 

12  Griffis,  p.  247 

13  Crawley,  p.  394 

14  HoLLis,  pp.  286-7 

15  Religious  Chastity,  chaps,  iii,  viii 

16  The  Principles  of  Psychology,  ii,  394-5 


230  IVeferences 

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18  Mayne,  ii,  164-5 

19  Williams,  i,  152 

20  Batchelor 

21  Garnett,  p.  237 

22  Journals,  ii,  214-5 

23  Man,  xii,  94  n.  2 

24  Journal  Anthropological  Institute,  xxix  (i 899-1 900),  339 

25  Lubbock,  John.     The  Origin  of  Civilization,  p.  ^i.     London, 

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26  Crawley,  p.  180 

27  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  p.  506  n.  i 

28  American  Anthropologist,  New  Ser.  iii  (1901),  617 

XIV 

1  Danes,  pp.  283-4 

2  Westermarck,  Marriage^  p.  303 

3  lb.,  pp.  298,  305 

4  HOWITT,  p.  185 

5  Westermarck,  Marriage,  p.  367 

6  Crawley,  p.  400 

7  GouLDSBURY  and  Sheane,  p.  259 

8  Crawley,  p.  400 

9  Starcke,  C.  N.     The  Primitive  Family,  p.  238.     New  York, 

1889 

10  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  i,  541 

11  Crawley,  pp.  402-3 

12  Williams,  i,  136 

13  Bk.  I,  sect,  i,  pt.  iii,  32 

14  GouLDSBURY  and  Sheane,  p.  259 

15  Garnett,  Lucy  M.  J.     The  Women  of  Turkey:  The  Christian 

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16  HowiTT,  A.  W.     "The  Jeraeil,  or  Initiation  Ceremonies  of 

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17  Holmes,  pp.  421,  422 

18  Webster,  p.  24 

19  Crawley,  p.  216 

20  Personal  Communication 


IVeferences 


231 


21  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy ^  i,  542 

22  Crawley,  p.  217 

23  Seligmann,  The  Veddas,  p.  69 

24  Starcke,  p.  239  n.  4.    But  cp.  Seligmann,  The  Veddas,  p. 

69 

25  Crawley,  p.  218 

26  Jenks,  a.  E.     The  Bontoc  Igorot,  pp.  50-1,62.    Ethnological 

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27  Fric  and  Radin,  p.  388 

28  Hagen,  B.     Unter  den  Papua's,  p.  234.    Wiesbaden,  1899 

29  FURNIVALL,  p.  xiv 

30  lb.,  p.  Ixii 

31  Ellis,  W.     Polynesian  Researches,  i,  263.     London,  1853 

32  BURCKHARDT,  pp.  201-2 

33  Johnston,  H.     The  Uganda  Protectorate,  ii,  7^5.     New  York 

and  London,  1902. 

34  Crawley,  152 

35  Reports  of  the  Cambridge  Anthropological  Society  to  Torres 

Straits,  vi,  281.     Cambridge,  1908 

36  Parsons,  The  Old- Fashioned  Woman,  pp.  177-8 

37  HowiTT,  Native  Tribes,  p.  748 

38  Man,  xii,  126 

39  Griffis,  p.  261 

40  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  pp.  484-5 

41  McClintock,  p.  187 

42  Westermarck,  Marriage,  p.  317 

43  DoRSEY,   J.    Owen.     "Teton   Folk-Lore."    The   American 

Anthropologist,  ii  (1889),  157 

44  Roth,  Walter  E.     Ethnological  Studies  among  the  North- 

West  Central  Queensland  Aborigines,  p.  134.    Brisbane  and 
London,  1897 

45  Man,  E.  H.     "On  Andamanese  and  Nicobarese  Objects." 

Journal  Anthropological  Institute,  xi  (1881-2),  288 

46  Rivers,  pp.  33-4 

47  GouLDSBURY  and  Sheane,  p.  257 

48  Lt  Ki,  Bk.  X,  sect,  i,  7 

49  The  Second  Part  of  Youths'  Behavior,  p.  17 

50  The  Young  Lady's  Friend,  p.  203 

51  R.  C.A.  E.  T.  S.,  V.  148 

52  Lt  Ktf  Bk.  X,  sect,  i,  4 


232  K.eference8 

53  Farrar,  p.  222 

54  Wild  Races  of  South-Eastern  India,  p.  i8i 

XV 

1  LivY-BRUHL,  pp.  410-11 

2  Griffis,  p.  246 

3  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  p.  60 

4  Parker,  E.  H.,  p.  94 

5  ROUTLEDGE,  pp.  25,  I4I 

6  HowiTT,  Native  Tribes,  p.  769. 

7  Webster,  p.  67 

8  HoDSON,  p.  183 

9  Webster,  p.  69 

10  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  pp.  139, 454 

1 1  RoUTLEDGE,  p.  202 

12  Bk.  Ill,  sect.  V,  3 

13  Eastman,  p.  52 

14  Cole,  p.  317 

15  Webster,  p.  70 

16  lb.,  p.  87 

17  Eastman,  p.  59 

18  Personal  Observation 

19  Routledge,  p.  24 

20  Hall,  G.  Stanley.      Adolescence,   ii,    252.      New  York, 

1905 

21  Webster,  p.  40 

22  Ploss,  ii,  447-8 

23  Webster,  p.  54 

24  BURCKHARDT,  p.  28 

25  Astley,  iv,  77 

26  Autobiography  of  an  Elderly  Woman,  p.  69.     Boston  and 

New  York,  19 11 

27  CORYAT,  i,  399 

28  Lt  Kt,  Bk.  Ill,  sect,  v,  5 

29  lb,,  Bk.  I,  sect,  i,  pt.  ii,  18 

30  Castiglione,  p.  107 

31  Routledge,  pp.  137-8 

32  lb.,  p.  140 

33  Ih. 

34  R.  C.  A.  E.  T.  S.,  vi,  115 


IVeferences 


233 


35  MacDonald,J.     "East  Central  African  Customs."  Journal 

Anthropological  Institute,  xxii  (1892-3),  loi 

36  Donaldson,  p.  144 

37  Castiglione,  p.  119 

38  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  i,  477 

39  Webster,  p.  90 

40  ROUTLEDGE,  p.  I43 

41  Indian  Boyhood,  p.  67 

42  Cole,  p.  325 

43  MacDonald,  Duff.  Africana/i,  63-4.    London,  Edinburgh, 

Aberdeen,  1882 

44  R.  C.  A.  E.  T.  S.,  vi,  140 

45  Essays  for  Young  Ladies,  pp.  174-5.    London,  1777 

46  Webster,  pp.  92,  93 

47  76.,  p.  90 

48  Frazer,  Totemism  and  Exogamy,  i,  542 

49  Webster,  p.  90 

50  Lt  Kt,  Bk.  I,  sect,  i,  pt.  ii,  i ;  pt.  iii,  3 

51  Eastman,  p.  58 

52  Letter  Hi 

53  Autobiography  of  an  Elderly  Woman,  pp.  193-4 

54  Smyth,  i,  137 

55  Routledge,  p.  23 

56  Hollis,  pp.  285-6 

57  Farrar,  p. 211 

58  R.  C.  A.  E.T.S.,v,  214 

59  Westermarck,  Moral  Ideas,  \,  604 

60  Lt  Kt,  Bk.  I,  sect,  i,  pt.  ii,  21 

61  FuRNiVALL,  p.  16.    Written  about  1480 

62  Lt  Kt,  Bk.  I,  sect,  i,  pt.  iii,  60 

63  GouLDSBURY  and  Sheane,  p.  259 

64  Griffis,  p.  259 

65  Native  Tribes,  p.  22 

66  Laws,  ix,  16 

67  Hilton-Simpson,  M.  W.    Land  and  Peoples  of  the  Kasai,  p. 

92.    Chicago,  1912 

68  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  p.  70 

69  Webster,  pp.  27-8 

70  lb.,  p.  81 

71  Crawley,  p.  160 


234  References 

72  Webster,  p.  89 

73  Man,  xii,  344 

74  Farrar,  p.  348 

75  HoLLis,  pp.  287-8 

76  Seligmann,  The  Melanesians,  pp.  460, 470-1 

77  The  Self -Tormentor,  Kct  III 

78  Webster,  pp.  88-9 

79  ROUTLEDGE,  p.  1 87 

80  A  Turkish  Woman's  European  Impressions,  ?•  156 

XVI 

1  Rivers,  p.  370 

2  Parsons,  Religious  Chastity,  pp.  65-9 

3  Martyr,  Peter.     The  Decades  of  the  New  World  or  West 

India,  First  Decade,  Bk.  ix,  sec.  46,  in  The  First  Three 
English  Books  on  America,    Westminster,  1895 


INDEX 


Abipones,  70,  82,  87,  no,  120 
Address,  49  n.,  68,  69-70,  166 
-7;   178-9;  titles  of,  69  n., 

143 
Aenezes.    See  Arabs 
Afghans,  35 
Africa,  Central,  6;  East,  165, 

184;  South,  187,  193;  West 

Coast  of,  57,  63,  71,  83,  151, 

168,  199  n. 
Age-classes,  vii,  viii,  ix,  x,  29 

n.,  47,  48,  50,  76,  77,  82,  99, 

loo-i,  1 16-7,  123,  124,  163 

flf.,   176  ff.,  205,  207,  208, 

210-11 
Ainu,  ID,  12,  13,  20,  26,  36, 

38  n.,  45,  83,  85,  112,  131, 

132,  150,  182  n. 
Akikdyu,  3,  44,  84,  86,   112, 

122,  178,  180,  181,  183,  185, 

190,  196 
Albania,  9-10, 120, 140,  145  n., 

150 
Aleuts,  128,  142 
Andamanese,  40,  41,  95,  124, 

144,  150,  166,  171,  194 
Arabs,  10,  37,  48,  81,  84,  121, 

125,  127,  141-2,  165,  182 
Armenians,  160 
Ashantee,  59 
Avoidance,  x,  i  ff.,  94,  95,  131, 

158  ff.,  211 
Awemba,  11,  37,  39,  41,  56,  68, 

84,  86,  III,  158,  160,  192 

Baduwis,  4,  55 

Baganda,  3,  7,  12,  26,  28,  34, 

38.  39»  57.  64,  65,  88,  122, 

132.    See  Mutesa 
Balonda,  83 
Banks'  Islands,  83 


Baralongs,  126 

Basuto,  160 

Bechuana,  193 

Beni-Amer,  158 

Benin,  54,  111-12 

Betrothal,  88,  89,  91,  93,  96, 
138,  166,  171,  178 

Birth,  88,  89,  93,  171,  193 

Birthdays,  91,  170,  212 

Blackfeet,  94-5,  168 

Blackfellows,  5,  11,  12,  13, 
25.28-9,36,45,50,54,  112, 
123,  129,  142,  150,  157,  158, 
159,  161,  162,  166,  171,  177, 
179,   181,   185,   187-8,   190, 

192,  193,  198  n. 
Borneo,  3  n.,  127,  144 
Bororo,  112,  163 
Bowing,  68-9,  83,  109 
Burma,  83 
Bushmans,  126 
Bushongo,  192 
Byron,  4,  139  n.,  148-9 

Calling.     See  Visiting 

Caribs,  142 

Caste,  viii,  ix,  x,  2,  8  n.,  29,  38, 

55ff.,  loi,  1 15-6, 123, 125-6, 

205,  206  n.,  211,  218 
Cazembe,  56,  60 
CeHbacy,  47,  145-6,  177,  186, 

218 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  viii,  3,8,  19, 

60,61,70,74-5,  189 
Chinese,  2,  6, 15, 16, 18,  21,  22, 

26-7,  28,  35-^,  49  n.,  53  n-. 

55.  84,  90.  102  n.,  112,  119- 

20,  123,  125,  157,  159,  172, 

173,  180,  182,  183,  189,  191 
Chivalry,  73  ff.,  131 
Chukmas,  174 


235 


236 


Index 


Clothes,    magic    of,    i6,    6i. 

See  Dress 
Club,  viii,  24,  44,  52,  121,  163, 

Colour,  13,  62-3,  64,  182,  198 

Comanche,  27 

"Coming-out,"  109,  no,  116, 
180,  183 

Commensality,  xiii,  21-4,  31, 
56,  109,  114  ff.,  170,  173, 
193.  194-5;  taboo  on,  2,  28, 
56-7.  59,  73»  102,  113  n., 
115  ff.,  165 

Condolence,  80,  89,  92,  98 

Congo,  42,  56 

Congratulations,  11-12,  18,  80, 
89,  92 

Conjugality,  ix,  42,  46,  56,  68, 
94,  95  n.,  111-12,  128,  129, 
i30»  139  ff.,  211.  See  Mar- 
riage 

Conversation,  8  n.,  21,  44-5, 
49,  78  ff.,  84  ff.,  89,  99,  105, 
1 14-5,  118,  123,  152,  167-8, 
189-90 

Corea,  55,  64,  66-7,  120,  121, 
143,  166,  177,  192 

Courtship,  62,  in,  137-8,  140, 

Crees,  160 

Crow  Indians,  162 

Dahomi,  56,  57  n.,  108-9,  i  io» 
III 

Dancing,  29  n.,  53  n.,  66,  72, 
79  n.,  104,  iio-i,  188,  195-6 

Death,  14  ff.,  88,  89,  91,  92, 
93.  95,  96,  123,  171,  198; 
taboo,  16  n.,  213.  See  Fun- 
erals, Ghosts,  Mourning 

Divorce,  88, 138,  144, 150, 153 

Dress,  63,  64,  74,  98-9,  134, 
143,  181-3,  198  n.,  204 

Drinking,  16,  23,  24,  31,  32, 
34. 36. 37.  56,  59,  60, 65, 103, 
112,  114,  180-1,  191 

Eatmg,  II,  16,  22-4,  35, 63, 65, 
98,  103-4,  164,  179-80.  See 
Commensality,  Entertaining 


Egypt,  62 

Endogamy,  x,  62,  126,  157-8 

English,  3,  6,  7,  8,  37,  38,  40, 

44.  53  n.,  58,  59,  60,  61,  62, 

65,  66,  67,  70,  75,  120,  122, 

123,    144,    163-4,    ^7^*   187, 

188  n.,  191 
Entertaining,  11, 12,  29,  36,  44, 

56-7,  72,  85,  89,  102  ff.,  106, 

107  ff.,  194,  212 
Eskimos,  27,  29  n.,  36 
Ewes,  63,  III 
Exclusiveness,  6-7,  29,  55  ff., 

209,210.     5ee  Sexes 
Exogamy,  x,  155-7 
Exorcism,  6,  54,  197 
Experts,  vi,  202-3 

Family,  viii,  ix,  9,  12,  17,  20, 
21  n.,  24,  28,  37  n.,  41,  48  n., 
50,  67,  84,  85,  86,  93,  94-5, 
100,  136  ff.,  155  ff.,  211 

Farewell,  9-10,  17,  18,  39,  40, 
87-8,  172,  210 

Feminism,  133  n. 

Fernando  Po,  55 

Fiji,  I,  15,  65,  68,  69,  71,  82, 
83,  87,  150,  151,  159,  162, 
177,  179-80 

Fors,  36  n. 

French,  6-7,  20,  64,  81,  84,  87, 
148,  196 

Funerals,  10,  15-6,  109,  no, 
III,  170,  197,212 

Fiita,  142,  152  n. 

Games,  65,  66,  75,  114,  122 
Gentry,  viii,  x,  2,  3,  58  ff.,  64, 

65,  68,  70-1,  73-6,  164 
Germans,  62,  69,  81,  87-8 
Gerontocracy,     124    n.,     137, 

157,  168,  185  ff.,  206-8 
Ghosts,  5,  6,  10,  14-8,  69  n., 

96,  182  n.,  187,  197-9,  206-7 
Gods,  8,  9, 10, 1 1,  13, 14, 15, 20, 

27  n.,  34,  35,  38,  39.  42.  91, 

94,97,  loi  n.,  109,  III,  133, 

182  n.,  187,  192,  199  ff. 
Greeks,   15,  41,  67,  148,  157, 

192,  198 


Index 


237 


Gregariousness,  vi-vii,  ix,  8, 
90,  92,  97,  106,  107,  III  n., 
114,  149  n.,  202,  205 

Guatemalans,  125 

Hand-shaking,  2,  3,  61,  83-4 
Hayti,  6,  54,  103,  199 
Hebrews,  6,  7,  15,  17,  81,  no, 

125, 141, 157, 184, 191, 199  n. 
Hereros,  37 
Hindus,  6,  38  n.,  48,  59,  65,  66, 

81,  104,  III,  141 
Hospitality,  viii,  ix,  x,  19  ff., 

95,  96,  102  fiE.,  109,  112,  195, 

210 
Hottentots,  161 
Hovas,  125 

Igorot,  144,  163 

Imitation,  viii,  58,  62,  134  n., 

203 
India,  4,  59,  62,  145  n. 
Initiation,  89,  93,  94.  95.  "0» 

168,  177,  178,  180,  181,  182, 

183,  185,  186-7,  193 
Insults,  9ij.,  132,  166,  200 
Introduction,  2,  44  ff.,  55,  61, 

78;  letters   of,   9,    53.    See 

Passports 
Iroquois,  22 
Italians,    70,    103,    in,    122, 

182-3.     See  Urbino 

James,  William,  2,  4,  147 
Japan,  50  n.,  63,  69,  82,  103, 
113,  114 

Kabuis,  179 

Kakhyens,  27,  74  n.,  127,  178 

Kayans,  128 

Kissing,  83,  84,  148,  172 

Krumen,  36 

Letters,  30,  70,  89,  149;  bread 
and  butter,  42-3;  to  the 
dead,  17.     See  Introduction 

Loango,  45,  62,  63  n. 

Magic,  41,  54,  128,  132  n.,  179 


n.,  207;  black,  vii  n.,  3,  36, 
54  n.,  201 ;  in  hospitality,  34; 
sympathetic, 4 1  n.,95, 151  n.; 
white,  9,  10,  53  n.,  63  n. 

Makalaka,  194 

Makololo,  36,  130 

Malagasy,  6 

Mandingo,  151 

Manhattan  Indians,  32 

Manila,  103,  126 

Marriage,  viii,  ix,  x,  8,  19  n., 
36,  62,  88,  94,  95,  124  ff., 
135,  136  ff.,  155,  168  n.,  177, 
178,  179,  183  ff.,  193  n.,  196, 
211,  214,  217.  See  Mono- 
gamy, Polyandry,  Polygyny, 
Weddings 

Masai,  39,  124,  143,  181,  190, 

195 
Massim,  50, 123, 142, 151, 166, 

180,  195  \ 

Molucca  Islands,  182  I 

Monogamy,  x,  19  n.,  62,  I44t5 
Moslems,  9,  10,  13,  56  n.,  iti, 

125,  142,  182  n.  > 

Mosquito  Indians,  151 
Mourning,  49  n.,  69  n.,   89, 

182  n.,  197-8.    See  Widows 
Mpongwe,  191 
Mutesa,  19,  57,  63 

Nagas,  122 

Naming,  40-1, 46  ff.,  69,  70, 78, 

89.  94.  123,  160,  162,  166-7, 

178,  198  n. 
Negritoes,  167  n. 
New  Britain,  94,  139,  145  n., 

156,  161 
New  Caledonians,  162 
New  England,  6,  27,  126,  144, 

166 
New  Guinea,   16,  24,  31   n., 

54.79.87.121,127,161,163, 

178, 180, 193.    See  Massun 
New  Hebrides,  121 
New  Ireland,  83 
New  York,  8  n.,  28,  32,  60,  68, 

72-3.  91.  109  n.,  "6,  117- 

8,  120-1,  130,  144 
New  Zealand,  59,  61 
Nubas,  60 


238 


Index 


Omahas,  169-70 

Pddams,  126 
Parades,  107-9,  "O 
Passports,  15,  53 
Persia,  9,  36,  40,  56-7,  181 
Personality,  vii,  ix,  xiv,  46,  87, 
88,  107,  114,  138,  148,  153, 
160  n.,  176-7,  203,  204,  205, 
209-10,  213,  215 
Peru,  62 

Pilgrimage,  13-14 
Plays,  64  n.,  113-4,  122 
Polyandry,  139,  141-2,  148-9 
Polygyny,  x,  62,   139,   140-1, 

185 

Presents,  20,  41,  89,  91  ff., 
193;  from  guests,  41,  91,  95, 
96;  from  hosts,  20,  41,  96; 
from  travellers,  12,  91,  95; 
good-bye,  9;  to  overlords,  35; 
to  the  dead,  15,  16  n.,  89, 
91 »  93»  96;  to  the  gods,  10, 
ii>  91.  97 »  200.  See  Sexes, 
Weddings 

Priests,  10,  13-14,  20-1,  54, 
63.66,97,111, 1 13-4.  122  n., 
128-9,  145,  186-7,  192,  199 
flF. 

Prostitution,  74  n.,  95  n.,  122, 

138-9,  152 
Proverbs,  70-1,  79,  80,  112  n. 
Pueblo  Indians,  4,  83,  103,  166, 

181,  192 
Puns,  70 

Race  relations,  3  flf.,  125-8, 
157,214,217 

Riddles,  112 

Romans,  44,  92-3,  125,  130, 
136-7,  145  n.,  182,  184,  195 

Royalty,  2,  6,  13,  19-20,  45, 
55  ff.,  60-1,  62-3,  66,  68,  69, 
70,  74,  88,  97,  107-9,  no, 
111,112,115,125,  193, 201  n. 

Russia,  6,  7,  15  n.,  68,  202 

Salutations,  80  ff.,  124,   143, 

150,  171-2,  190-1 
Samoa,  69,  80-1,  82-3,  86  n., 
.    168-9,  177 


Sandwich  Islands,  165 

San  Salvador,  65 

Santals,  27 

Seating,  16,  27,  36-7,  41,  59, 
68,  73,  86,  1 17-8,  119,  121, 
191 

Servants,  domestic,  24,  27, 
38,  55,  59,  64  n.,  65,  67,  71, 
72-3,  75,  116,  164 

Sex,  characters,  134;  education 
in,  168,  185;  inferiority  of, 
73,  76;  mystery  of,  133-4 

Sexes,  calls  between  the,  29-30, 
98,  99;  contagion  between 
the,  129-30;  colours  appro- 
priate to  the,  182  n.;  com- 
parative conventionality  of 
the,  94  n.;  exclusiveness  of 
the,  77,  113, 121  ff.;  generali- 
ties about  the,  130-1;  intro- 
ductions between  the,  47, 51 ; 
presents  between  the,  95  n., 
124;  restrictions  upon  the,  vi, 
viii,  29, 95  n.,  152 ;  salutation 
between  the,  81  n.;  separa- 
tion of  the,  V,  viii,  x,  xiii-xiv, 
96,  1 17-8,  119  ff.,  186,  194, 
205,  206,  211.  See  Avoid- 
ance 

Sexual  hospitality,  35-6,  142 

Shyness,  i  ff.,  152,  165-6,  218 

Siam,  122 

Singing,  13,  29  n.,  III-13 

Sinhalese,  5,  88 

Sioux,  63,  130,  169  n.,  180, 181, 
186,  189 

Slaves,  8,  59,  67, 125, 151, 157 

Smoking,  61,  63,  65,  86,  181, 
192 

Snake  Indians,  78  n. 

Solomon  Islands,  34 

Soudan,  9,  54,  201  n. 

Speaking,  public,  51,  80  n., 
188,  189 

Speech,  68,  69  ff.,  74,  89  n., 
99;  taboo  on,  45,  57,  95  n., 
109,  no,  114,  123,  132,  152, 
159,  160,  161,  162,  177,189- 
90,  204.     See  Conversation 

Staring,  2-3,  26 

Steins,  23 


Index 


239 


Strangers,  i  ff.,  8,  43,  45  ff., 
53  Qm  54.  61,76,  117  n.,  120, 
133,  158,  209,  210 

Suffrage,  Woman,  2,  61,  109, 
132  n.,  149 

Suicide,  17-18,  62 

Sumatra,  62-3,  156 

Swedes,  125 

Switzerland,  88 

Table  manners,  22-4,  28,  73  n., 
113  n.,  115,  197,212  n. 

Tasmanians,  131 

Teknonymy,  160,  166 

Thibetans,  141 

Timor-laut,  143 

Tipperahs,  140 

Todas,  93,  162,  171-2,  198 

Tonga  Isles,  56,  59,  199  n. 

Torres  Straits,  Islands  of,  94, 
166,  173,  184,  191 

Tourists,  2,  8,  50  n.,  79 

Travel,  45  n.,  50,  52,  56,  78  n., 
79  n.,  91,  95,  112,  133,  150, 
170,  20I--2,  210.  See  Tour- 
ists 

Tshis,  no.  III 

Turks,  20,  III,  196 

Urbino,  48,  58,  122-3,  184-5 
Uripiv  Idanders,  117,  194,  195 

Veddas,  4,  5,  17  n.,  26,  no  n., 
119,  127,  144,  162,  163 


Visiting,  4,  II  n.,  29-30,  36, 
61, 89,97ff.,  138,171,17411., 
188  n.,  190,  198,  200;  cards, 
26,  49-50*  99  ff-  See  Hos- 
pitality 

Wadai,  57,  189 

Wagogo,  86,  180,  187 

Wahuma,  66 

Wanyamwesi,  lo,  78  n. 

Washington,  D.  C,  11,  56,  58, 
68,  104-6,  116 

Weddings,  89,  91,  92,  98,  109, 
iio-ii,  138,  170,  177,  183, 
212 

Weeping,  87,  171 

Widows,  15,  124  n.,  145,  199 

Women,  as  property,  145  flf., 
calling  obligatory  upon,  100; 
conservative,  132  n.;  drink- 
ing by,  24;  fear  of  the 
unusual  among,  8  n.;  food 
taboos  on,  180  n.;  of  leisure, 
206;  present  of,  19  n.;  se- 
cluded, 28;  smoking  by,  65; 
travelling  alone,  8  n.  See 
Sexes 

Yaunde,  180 
Yezidi  Kurds,  15 
Yorubans,  54 
Yucatan,  157 

Zulus,  86  n,f  158, 166,  195 


Ji  Selection  from  the 
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G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


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''  Jn(ere$(mg  from  the  Bnt  line  to  the  last.  The  book 
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through." 

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The  Old-Fashioned 
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G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


Life  and  Law 

By  Maude  Glasgow,  M.D. 

/2^    $L25ncl 

In  this  volume  the  author  traces  the  nattiral 
history  of  sex  from  the  lower  animal  forms 
through  the  more  complex  organisms  to  man. 
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of  sex  is  made  clear,  and  the  need  of  safeguard- 
ing it  from  the  dangers  incident  to  immoral 
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and  a  developed  public  conscience  demand  the 
eradication  of  the  evil  of  prostitution,  not  only 
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conditions  may  be  looked  for  is  pointed  out. 

New  York    G.  P.  Putnam's  SonS    London 


ros 

The  Development  of  Sex  Relation 
through  the  Ages 

By  Eiml  Lucka 

Translated  by  Ellie  Schleussner 

Here  is  the  first  attempt  ever  made  to  present 
a  historical  and  philosophical  account  of  the 
development  of  the  passion  of  love  in  all  times, 
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etical work  on  the  subject.  Like  all  remarkable 
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ble of  the  highest  love. 

Lucka's  main  thesis  is  that  genuine  love,  the 
synthesis  of  the  sensual  and  the  ideal,  is  some- 
thing entirely  modern.  He  shows  that  love 
among  barbarous  races,  and  among  civilized 
races  of  antiquity,  was  always  purely  a  matter 
of  the  senses.  In  ancient  Greece  that  which  is 
now  called  "  Platonic  love "  did  not  exist,  not 
even  as  an  ideal,  for  Platonic  love  was  not  love 
of  woman  at  all,  but  merely  love  of  an  ideal. 

New  York    G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons    London 


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